IMPERIAL 
IGHWAY, 


GIFT   OF 

A.   J.   Dickie,  Editor 
Pacific  Marine  Review 


1942-1943 


THE 


IMPERIAL  HIGHWAY. 


ON 

BUSINESS    AND     HOME     LIFE 

WITH 

BIOGRAPHIES 

OF 

SELF-MADE   MEN. 


AMONG     THE     HUNDREDS      OF      DISTINGUISHED      CONTRIBUTORS      WHOSE 

THOUGHTS    ENRICH    THESE     PAGES,    ARE    WASHINGTON,   FRANKLIN, 

LONGFELLOW,  SHAKESPEARE,  MILTON.  BACON,  SMILES,  MADAME 

MONTAGUE,    SCOTT,    CHESTERFIELD,    HOLLAND,    IRVING,   MRS. 

HEMANS,  CARLYLE,  GOETHE,  SCHILLER,  MADAME  DE  STAEL, 

WELLINGTON,  WORDSWORTH,  DR.  JOHNSON,  LAMB, 

BEACONSFIELD,     MRS.     STOWE,    EMERSON, 

DICKENS,    LINCOLN,   GARFIELD, 

AND   MANY   OTHERS. 


JEROME  PAINE  BATES,  A.  M. 

i) 


CHICAGO: 

THE  NATIONAL  LIBRARY  ASSOCIATION. 

1888. 


COPYRIGHTED  BY 
E.    A.    BORLAND 

1881,  1883, 1884  and  1886. 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


PREFACE. 


It  is  the  pride  and  boast  of  the  world  that  this  is 
an  age  of  self-made  men.  However  humble  may  be 
the  position  of  a  man,  it  is  within  his  power  to  reach 
the  pinnacle  of  fame  and  fortune. 

This  book  is  full  of  the  names  of  men  who,  without 
friends  or  money  to  help  them,  have  risen  by  the 
force  of  their  own  genius  to  the  highest  positions, 
and  their  example  stands  out  boldly  to  encourage  and 
cheer  others  who  are  struggling  onward  on  this  High- 
way to  success.  The  reading  of  such  examples  can 
not  fail  to  stimulate  us  to  earnest  endeavors  to  be, 
like  them,  successful. 

In  Part  II  prominence  is  given  to  social  and  family 
life.  Pure,  wholesome,  and  plain  suggestions  abound, 
applicable  alike  to  the  man  who  would  build  a  home 
where  brain  and  heart  may  find  peace  and  rest ;  to 
the  wife,  mother,  or  sister,  whose  aims  are  kindred, 
and  to  the  young  people  who  are  growing  up  among 
those  refining  influences  so  fully  described  in  this 
book.  To  all  these  a  rich  mine  of  practical  thought 
is  opened.  Home  life  is  exalted  and  made  more 
cheerful  by  a  careful  reading  of  this  beautiful  volume. 

M234S30 


,     PREFACE. 

Part  III  touches  upon  that  highway  which  all 
must  tread,  the  highway  to  eternal  life.  Would  you 
walk  in  it  understandingly?  Then  follow  the  admoni- 
tions which  are  meant  for  all  who  desire  happiness  in 
the  life  to  come.  They  are  pure  and  sound.  While 
no  theology  is  taught,  the  lessons  given  are  eminently 
Christian  and  holy.  They  leave  no  step  of  the  way 
in  doubt.  Every  faithful  mother  can  gain  here  some 
new  truth  which  shall  help  her  to  mould  and  direct 
the  lives  of  those  committed  to  her  trust. 

Such,  in  brief,  are  the  aims  of  the  "Imperial  High- 
way." Its  treasure-house  of  rich  and  varied  experi- 
ences has  been  gathered  lavishly,  and  given  to  the 
public  with  a  generous  hand.  Its  sole  aim  is  to  do 
good,  to  scatter  broadcast  seeds  of  truth  that  shall 
spring  up  and  bear  fruit.  To  benefit  all  classes  and 
all  ages.  And  how  faithfully  and  conscientiously  its 
mission  has  been  performed,  we  will  let  the  verdict 
rest  with  our  readers. 


CONTENTS. 

PART    I. 

SUCCESS  IN  BUSINESS  LIFE. 

PAGE. 

THE  PURPOSE  STATED 17 

SUCCESS 19 

ABILITY 21 

PURPOSE 22 

POWER  OF  CIRCUMSTANCES 25 

LUCK 27 

ACCIDENTS 29 

OPPORTUNITIES 32 

FORTUNE 33 

VOCATION 36 

NATURAL  CAPACITIES 37 

A  WARNING  EXAMPLE 39 

EARLY  INDICATIONS 43 

CHANGING  VOCATIONS 48 

OCCUPATIONS 49 

LOCATION 50 

OVERCROWDED  CITIES 5 l 

FARMING 53 

FARMERS  RARELY  FAIL 54 

ADAPTED  TO  ALL 56 

BISTORT  OF  AGRICULTURE 59 

IN  GREECE 60 

IN  ROME 6 1 

IN  ENGLAND 64 

IN  AMERICA ....  68 

[v] 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

FARM  AND   CITT  LIFE 72 

BOOKS 75 

CONCENTRATION  OF  MIND  AND  POWER..  76 

ONE*  CAUSE  OF  FAILURE 77 

SINGLENESS  OF  AIM 80 

POWER  OF  ATTENTION 82 

HARMONIOUS  DEVELOPMENT 84 

STICK  TO  ONE  THING 87 

SELF  HELP 90 

HARDSHIP  IN  EARLY  LIFE.  , 92 

POVERTY  AND  RICHES 94 

EARLY  LIFE  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON 97 

SELF  RELIANCE 101 

IMAGINATION 102 

SELF  CONCEIT 103 

THE  PRESENT  AGE 104 

SELF  ADVERTISING 106 

LABOR 109 

IDLENESS 109 

GENIUS  AND  INDUSTRY no 

\V  ORTHY  EXAMPLES 112 

GREAT  ARTISTS 123 

GREAT  MUSICIANS 1 30 

GREAT  AUTHORS 132 

GREAT  ORATORS 1 36 

LITTLE  THINGS 141 

ATTENTION  TO  DETAILS 146 

\  SUCCESSFUL  GENERALS 149 

COMMON  SENSE 156 

BOOK-KNOWLEDGE  AND  EXPERIENCE 159 

FAULTS  OF  GREAT  MEN 161 

EDUCATION. 165 

SELF-CULTURE..  , 166 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

PAGE. 

NARROW-MINDEDNESS 170 

LITERATURE  AND  BUSINESS 171 

POLITENESS 176 

GOOD  MANNERS". 1 79 

JESTING 181 

/  IMPRESSIVE  ORATORY 183 

COURTEST 186 

PLEASANT  ADDRESS 187 

THE  TRUE  GENTLEMAN 190 

FORCE  OF   WILL 195 

WILL-POWER   AND  STRENGTH 198 

RESOLUTION 203 

PERSE  VERANCE 208 

ADVERSITY 212 

THE  ROAB  TO  SUCCESS 215 

CAREER  OF  A  FORTUNE  HUNTER 218 

RESER  VE  PO  WER. 223 

ACCUMULATION 226 

/  COOLNESS  AND  COURAGE 228 

DANIEL   WEBSTER 231 

BUSINESS    TRAITS 235 

DECISION 235 

/   PRESENCE  OF  MIND 239 

WISDOM 242 

INDECISION 245 

PATIENCE 248 

ILLUSTRATIONS 251 

HABITS 253 

•  METHOD 255 

PUNCTUALITY 258 

ECONOMY 262 

BEING  IN  DEBT 264 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

RIGHT  USE  OF  TIME 267 

ODD  MOMENTS 268 

PICKING  UP  FACTS 272 

KNOWLEDGE 272 

CHANGE  AND  VARIETY 274 

HO  W  TO  MAKE  MONET 277 

EXPENSE 279 

SAVING 280 

OUT  OF  DEBT 280 

POWER  OF  MONET 282 

WHAT  MONEY  DOES 283 

ACQUIRING  MONEY 284 

BETTER  THAN  MONEY 286 

POSSESSION  OF  MONEY 287 

EMBARRASSED  CIRCUMSTANCES 289 

MECHANISM  OF  CHARACTER 291 

WEIGHT  OF  CHARA  CTER 294 

POWER  OF  CHARACTER 296 

BIOGRAPHIES 299 

GARFIELD 300 

LINCOLN 308 

THOMAS 312 

LEE 316 

JACKSON 319 

SUMNER 321 

STEWART 326 

VANDERBILT 331 

GOULD 336 

HOWE 343 

GLADSTONE 349 

BRIGHT 354 

BISMARCK 356 

EMMET 358 

SELF-MADE  MEN 360 


CONTENTS.  IX 


PART  II. 


HAPPINESS   IN  SOCIAL  AND  FAMILY  LIFE. 

PAGE. 

HAPPINESS 409 

HAPPINESS  DEFINED 410 

PERMANENTLY  HAPPY  STATE 412 

HEALTH  AND  HAPPINESS 414 

*  CULTURE  OF  THE  BODY 415 

JUVENILE  VITALITY 416 

MAN'S  POWER 419 

LAWS  OF  HEALTH 42 1 

REST  AND  RECREATION 422 

OVERWORK 423 

SOMETHING  BETTER 426 

SLEEP 428 

SOCIETT. 430 

CHEERFULNESS 43 1 

SYMPATHY 432 

GOOD  SOCIETY 434 

AVOID  EXCESS 435 

FRIENDSHIP 438 

KINDS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 438 

NECESSARY  TO  FRIENDSHIP 440 

I  HUMAN  LOVE 443 

COURTSHIP 448 

BASHFULNESS 449 

GETTING  ACQUAINTED 452 

UNMASKED 453 

MARRIAGE 455 


X  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

HUSBAND  AND    WIFE 464 

MUTUALLY  RESPECTFUL 465 

HOUSEHOLD  EXPENSES 467 

THE   HUSBAND 469 

THE  WIFE 472 

HOUSEHOLD  DUTIES. 475 

COMFORT  YOUR  HUSBAND 478 

DON'T  QUARREL 480 

WIVES,  BE  DISCREET 481 

HOME 484 

THE  HOME  CIRCLE 486 

CHARACTER  OF  HOME 487 

HOME  INFLUENCE 489 

MAKE  HOME  CHEERFUL 491 

WOMAN  AND  HOME 493 

HOUSEKEEPING 495 

WOMAN'S  TRUE  POSITION 496 

POWER  OF  WOMAN  OVER  MAN 498 

TEMPTATION 499 

THE  MOTHER 502 

WOMAN'S  CHARMS 503 

BECOMING  A  MOTHER 504 

A  MOTHER'S  LOVE 506 

MOTHERS  OF  GREAT  MEN 510 

MOTHER  OF  ELEVEN  CHILDREN 514 

STRIKING  CONTRAST 516 

MY  BIRTHDAY 521 

THE  FAMILY 523 

THE  BABY. 525 

THE  CRADLE 526 

CARE  OF  INFANTS 532 

CHILDREN 535 

LOVE  OF  CHILDREN 536 

HEARTLESS  PARENTS 539 

How  TO  BRING  UP  CHILDREN 542 

545 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGK. 
J°Y 546 

EARLY  HAPPINESS 548 

HOUSEHOLD  VIRTUES 549 

KINDNESS 550 

PARENTAL  LOVE 552 

HOUSEHOLD  ORDER 553 

SKETCH  OF  A  HAPPY  FAMILY '. 556 

RESPECT  FOR  THE  AGED 559 

EDUCATION  OF  GIRLS .565 

ASSIST  YOUR  PARENTS 566 

TREATMENT  OF  SERVANTS 569 

DOMESTIC  HABITS 571 

A  DUTIFUL  DAUGHTER 573 

CHOOSING  A  HUSBAND 576 

WORDS  TO  TOUNG  MEN 579 

INDUSTRY 582 

DISHONESTY 584 

VIRTUE „ 59 1 

x  SELECTING  A  WIFE 595 

WHO  NOT  TO  MARRY 596 

A  GOOD  HOUSEKEEPER 597 

AN  AFFECTIONATE  WIFE 599 

A  SUNNT  DISPOSITION. 600 

KINDNESS 605 

BEAUTT 611 

DECORUM  AND  DRESS 618 

AWKWARDNESS 62 1 

SELF-COMMAND 623 

BRILLIANT  TALKERS 624 

TABLE  ETIQUETTE 627 

SLANG 629 

PROFANITY 630 

DRESS 632 

USING  PAINT 634 

RIDING  HABIT 636 

TRAVELING  COSTUME 637 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


PART    III. 


THE  HIGHWAY  TO  ETERNAL  LIFE. 

PAGE. 

RELIGION , 641 

THE  EXISTENCE  OF  THE  HUMAN  SOUL 641 

OUTLINES  OF  TRUE  RELIGION 643 

THE  NEW  TESTAMENT 644 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  GOD 646 

HOLY,  JUST  AND  GOOD 648 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  MAN 649 

MAN  is  UNHOLY 650 

POWER  TO  CHANGE  MAN'S  NATURE 653 

THE  GUIDE  BOOK 654 

PARTLY  RIGHT 656 

TRUTH  AND  ERROR  IN  RELIGION 657 

INVISIBILITT  OF  GOD  AND  HE  A  VEN. 659 

HEAVENLY  THINGS 660 

WE  ALL  WORSHIP  A  GOD 661 

JUDGE  OF  ALL  THE  EARTH 662 

THE  SPIRITUAL  PAST 664 

THE  SPIRITUAL  PRESENT 665 

MODES  OF  COMMUNICATION 667 

VERBAL  MESSAGES 668 

FREE  AGENTS 669 

NATURAL  LAWS 671 

GROUNDS  OF  RELIGIOUS  CERTAINTT 674 

TESTIMONY  OF  THE  SENSES 675 

THE  CHRISTIAN  CHURCH 677 

TESTIMONY  OF  HISTORY 680 

SKEPTICAL  CRITICISM.  .  .  68 1 


CONTENTS.  Xlll 

PAG*. 

TESTIMONY  OF  CONSCIENCE 683 

POSITIVE  PROOF e 685 

REPENTANCE 688 

THE  HUMAN  HEART 690 

CONVERTED 692 

A  NEW  CREATION 694 

PRIMARY  ELEMENTS 696 

EARNESTNESS 697 

CONSEQUENCES 698 

PEACE  TO  THE  SOUL 699 

SIN  AND  PARDON. 702 

HUMAN  LAW 703 

DIVINE  LAW 705 

JUSTICE  AND  PROVIDENCE 706 

JUSTIFIED  OR  PARDONED 707 

FAITH  OF  THE  HEART 710 

THE  RESULTS  ATTAINED 713 

THE  NA  TURE  AND  PO  WER  OF  FAITH 715 

DIFFERENT  KINDS  OF  FAITH 716 

HOPE 717 

POWER  OF  FAITH 723 

WHAT  FAITH  BRINGS  TO  VIEW 724 

THE  VICTORY  THAT  OVERCOMETH 725 

FAITH,  THE  GIFT  OF  GOD 727 

RE  GENERA  TION,  OR  THE  NE  W  BIRTH 729 

BORN  AGAIN 734 

A  NEW  CREATURE 737 

BELIE  VING  ON  CHRIST 740 

GENERAL  BELIEF 741 

CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 743 

GOD  REVEALED  THROUGH  CHUIST 744 

TRUE  CONVERSION 746 

CHRISTIAN  CONSCIOUSNESS 748 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

CHRISTIAN  LOVE 752 

ITS  ORIGIN 753 

LIKE  A  MOTHER'S  LOVE 756 

UNSELFISH  IN  CHARACTER 758 

AN  IMPARTIAL  LOVE 761 

STRONG  AND  ENDURING 763 

THE  HOLT  SPIRIT 768 

A  COMFORTER 770 

A  SANCTIFIER 774 

PRATER 776 

PRAYER  REASONABLE  AND  CONSISTENT 773 

WHAT  GOOD  DOES  PRAYER  DO? 780 

PRAYER  ANSWERED 783 

PRAYER  A  DUTY  AND  PRIVILEGE 785 

CONSCIENCE 788 

Is  CONSCIENCE  A  SAFE  GUIDE  ? 789 

A  GUILTY  CONSCIENCE 793 

THE  VOICE  OF  DUTT. 795 

DUTY  TO  GOD 796 

DUTY  TO  OTHERS , .  .   798 

DUTY  TO  OURSELVES 799 

TIME  AND  ETERN1TT. .  .   806 


PART   I. 


SUCCESS  IN  BUSINESS  LIFE. 


"  Years  ago,  a  penniless  boy  on  a  journey  paid  for  a  meal  by 
doing  a  job  of  work.  Afterward  he  came  to  be  the  possessor  of 
millions  which  he  bestowed  with  a  lavish  hand  upon  works  of 
charity  and  philanthropy.  Thus  fortune  honored  him,  and  he 
honored  fortune.  And  when  he  died,  the  ships  of  two  nations 
carried  the  remains  of  GEORGE  PEABODY  to  his  native  shores." 

"  It  is  lesson  after  lesson  with  the  scholar,  blow  after  blow 
with  the  laborer,  crop  after  crop  with  the  farmer,  picture  after 
picture  with  the  painter,  and  mile  after  mile  with  the  traveler, 
that  secures  what  all  so  much  desire — SUCCESS." 

"  No  abilities,  however  splendid,  can  command  success  without 
intense  labor  and  persevering  application." 

— A.  T.  STEWART. 

"  I  have  always  had  these  two  things  before  me :  Do  what  you 
undertake  thoroughly.  Be  faithful  in  all  accepted  trusts." 

— NICHOLAS  LONGWORTH. 


TO 


^oung  ]V[cn  anil  tl[e  ^oung 


"WHO  DESIRE  TO  TRAVEL  THE  ROAD  TO 


HAPPINESS,  AND  STERNAL  IIIFB, 


IS    THIS    BOOK 


INSCRIBED. 


The  Imperial  Highway. 


THE  PURPOSE  STA  TED. 


!N  the  days  of  Roman  greatness,  before  rail- 
roads were  known  or  even  thought  of,  there 
were  constructed  imperial  or  military  high- 
ways  or  roads  leading  from  Rome  to  the 
most  distant  provinces  of  the  Empire.  Parts 
of  these  highways  after  the  lapse  of  more 
2,000  years,  are  still  seen  in  a  comfortable 
state  of  preservation — so  solidly  were  they  built. 
These  roads  became  very  useful ;  in  fact,  without 
them,  the  vast  empire  could  hardly  have  been  held 
together.  Over  them  the  victorious  soldiers  passed 
rapidly  from  one  point  to  another  to  quell  revolts  or 
make  new  conquests.  They  were,  as  far  as  possible, 
built  straight  and  level,  smooth  and  wide.  On  them 
many  persons  could  march  abreast.  Hills  were  cut 
down  and  valleys  filled  up,  ravines  were  bridged,  and 
swamps  embanked.  Enormous  were  the  sums  of 
money  expended  upon  them,  and  prodigious  the 


i8 


THE    PURPOSE    STATED. 


amount  of  labor  bestowed  ;  and  they  are  universally 
regarded  the  most  useful,  as  they  are  the  most  lasting, 
of  all  Rome's  public  works. 

In  like  manner,  there  is  an  imperial  highway  to 
a  siiccessful  and  happy  life;  but  like  those  which 
existed  in  olden  time,  it  is  not  found  ready-made.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  must  be  built  and  perfected,  as  those 
were,  at  some  expense  of  time  and  toil.  And  it  is 
the  object  of  this  volume  to  tell  you  how  to  build  it, 
and  what  materials  to  use.  Such  imperial  highways 
nave  been  built  all  along  through  the  ages  from  the 
very  beginning  of  time.  Noble,  brave,  heroic  men 
and  women  have  lived  who  have  resolved  to  carve 
out  for  themselves  through  opposing  hills  of  diffi- 
culty, and  valleys  of  poverty,  and  quagmires  of  dis- 
couragement, a  straight,  level,  and  solid  road  to  suc- 
cess, usefulness,  and  final  felicity  ;  and  they  have  done 
it.  It  cost  them  years  of  patient  labor  and  persever- 
ing courage,  it  tried  their  souls  sometimes  pretty 
severely,  but  yet,  in  spite  of  all  drawbacks,  the  high- 
way was  built. 


SUCCESS.  19 


SUCCESS. 


"Success  in  most  things  depends  on  knowing  how  long  it  takes 
to  succeed."  — MONTESQUIEU. 


IMONG  the  deepest  and  most  important 
thoughts  that  agitate  the  minds  of  human- 
ity, none  is  greater  or  more  vital  than  the 
following  :  How  can  we  make  the  most  of 
life?  In  many  respects,  our  lives  are  like 
the  broad  and  boundless  sea,  but  at  no  one  point  is 
this  resemblance  more  vivid  and  truthful  than  in  re- 
gard to  the  possibilities  of  success  or  failure.  Like 
the  ocean,  life  can  be  made  the  highway  to  fortune 
and  happiness,  or  it  can  be  made  the  scene  of  sad  dis- 
aster and  fatal  wreck. 

As  we  come  to  the  years  of  understanding  and  re- 
sponsibility, we  all  find  ourselves  in  a  world  where  the 
prizes  and  rewards  of  labor  are  very  unequally  dis- 
tributed. We  look  about  and  see  a  portion  of  our 
fellow-beings  reveling  in  plenty  and  luxury,  and  an- 
other portion  groveling  in  poverty  and  misery.  We 
also  find  that  the  conditions  of  success,  with  some  few 
exceptions,  lie  open  to  all  alike,  and  that  the  laws  and 
elements  of  nature  are  perfectly  impartial  in  their 
operations.  Why,  then,  are  not  all  alike  successful 
and  happy  ?  What  makes  the  difference  between  the 
two  classes  already  mentioned  ? 


20  SUCCESS. 

In  endeavoring  to  an'swer  these  questions  some  will 
talk  about  good  and  bad  luck,  others  of  external  sur- 
roundings and  influences,  but  we  lay  it  down  as  one 
of  the  fundamental  facts  of  life  that  every  man 
can  be  something  and  do  something  worthy  of 
himself  and  his  opportunities,  if  in  the  first  place  he 
knows  how  to  go  to  work,  and  then  keeps  at  it  until 
he  accomplishes  his  chosen  object.  It  has  been  well 
said  that  the  talent  of  success  is  nothing  more  than 
doing  what  you  can  do  well,  without  a  thought  of  fame. 
That  is,  by  working  conscientiously  and  faithfully 
without  trying  to  make  a  big  "  splurge"  over  it,  or  at- 
tempting to  "show  off"  too  much,  each  man  or  woman 
can,  in  his  or  her  sphere,  be  successful,  and  fulfill  life's 
great  mission.  This  is  not  saying  that  all  persons  are 
equally  endowed  with  mental  gifts,  or  that  every  man 
is  a  natural  genius  and  only  needs  suitable  opportun- 
ity to  become  the  peer  of  the  really  great  and  good 
who,  in  all  ages,  have  largely  guided  the  current  of 
thought  and  activity  in  the  times  when  they  lived,  and 
who  have  left  their  indelible  impress  upon  the  pages 
of  human  history.  There  are,  without  doubt,  real  and 
specific  differences  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  men,  as 
there  are  real  and  visible  differences  in  their  physical 
constitutions  and  bodily  powers.  Some  men  are  made 
up  on  scant  and  small  patterns;  others  are  simply 
medium  or  ordinary  in  ability;  while  others  are  large 
and  heroic  by  nature;  but  as  every  man  is  made  in  the 
"  image  of  God,"  so  he  can,  by  the  proper  cultivation 
and  training  of  his  powers,  and  by  the  diligent  use  of 
all  the  means  within  his  reach,  be  truly  fortunate  or 
successful  in  business  life,  in  family  and  social  life,  and 
in  moral  and  religious  life.  We  all  remember  that 


22  ABILITY. 

connectedly  upon  abstract  truth  or  propositions;  the 
ability  to  investigate  and  discuss  intelligently  the 
higher  range  of  questions  and  topics  in  physical, 
mental,  and  moral  science.  Then  there  is  the  poetical 
talent ;  the  power  to  see  visions  of  beauty  and  phases 
of  truth  in  the  scenes  and  events  of  ordinary  life,  and 
the  power  to  express  these  in  easy,  flowing,  and  me- 
lodious rhyme.  Then  there  is  the  executive  talent; 
the  power  to  manage  large  and  critical  enterprises; 
the  power  of  handling  men  and  facts;  the  power  to 
carry  a  scheme  or  a  purpose  into  immediate  and 
telling  effect ;  the  power  to  "  run  things"  generally, 
and  make  them  "go."  Then  again  there  is  the  ingen- 
ious, inventive  talent;  the  capacity  for  making  discov- 
eries in  science,  mechanics,  and  the  useful  arts ;  the 
power  which  makes  a  man  fertile  in  expedients,  and 
leads  him  to  contrive  all  sorts  of  objects  for  ornament 
or  use,  or  for  both  combined.  Then  there  is  the 
ability  to  write,  which  authors  and  editors  are  sup- 
posed to  have;  the  ability  to  sing,  play  and  compose, 
which  is  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  musicians;  the 
ability  to  imitate  and  personify,  which  belongs  espec- 
ially to  actors;  together  with  a  hundred  other  kinds 
which  we  will  not  now  attempt  to  enumerate.  But 
after  all,  the  ability  to  succeed  in  life,  or  as  another 
has  happily  expressed  it,  the  talent  to  "get  on  in  the 
world"  is  something  superior  to  all  these,  if  a  man 
can  have  but  one  kind  ;  because  it  is  infinitely  more 
practical  and  useful. 

Some  are  always  saying,  If  this  and  that  thing  were 
not  as  it  is,  or  if  I  had  lived  in  other  days,  it  would 
have  been  different  with  me.  But  such  kind  of  rea- 
soning and  murmuring  never  yet  led  to  success  in 


PURPOSE.  23 

any  undertaking  or  enterprise.  If  you  wish  to  suc- 
ceed, you  must  do  as  you  would  to  get  in  at  a  door 
through  a  crowd.  Hold  your  ground  and  push  hard. 
To  merely  stand  still  is  to  give  up  your  chance  and 
hope.  No  man  has  any  right  to  ask  himself  whether 
he  is  a  genius  or  not  ;  what  he  has  to  do  is  to  go  to 
work  quietly  and  steadily,  and  if  he  has  but  moderate 
abilities,  industry  will  at  least  partly  supply  their 
deficiency. 

PURPOSE. 

What  most  men  want  is  not  talent,  but  purpose  ; 
not  the  power  to  achieve,  but  the  will  to  labor.  Said 
good  old  Richard  Sharp,  "  After  many  years  of 
thoughtful  experience  I  can  truly  say  that  nearly  all 
those  who  began  life  with  me,  have  succeeded  or 
failed,  as  they  deserved."  The  wants  of  so-ciety  raise 
thousands  to  distinction  who  are  only  possessed  of 
common  endowments.  The  utility  of  actions  to  man- 
kind is  the  final  standard  by  which  they  are  measured, 
and  not  the  intellectual  supremacy  which  is  displayed 
by  their  performance. 

Years  ago,  a  penniless  boy  on  a  journey  paid  for  a 
meal  by  doing  a  job  of  work.  Afterward  he  came  to 
be  the  possessor  of  millions  which  he  bestowed  with  a 
lavish  hand  upon  works  of  charity  and  philanthropy. 
Thus  fortune  honored  him,  and  he  honored  fortune. 
And  when  he  died,  the  ships  of  two  nations  carried  the 
remains  of  George  Peabody  to  his  native  shores. 

The  career  of  Sir  Francis  Horner,  the  eminent 
Scotchman,  also  illustrates  our  theme.  Although  he 
died  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-eight,  he  possessed 
greater  public  influence  than  many  other  private  men, 


24  PURPOSE. 

and  was  admired,  beloved  and  trusted,  by  all  except 
the  heartless  or  the  base.  No  greater  homage  was 
ever  paid  in  Parliament  to  any  deceased  member. 
Now  let  every  young  man  ask,  How  was  this  attained? 
By  rank?  He  was  the  son  of  an  Edinburgh  merchant. 
By  wealth?  Neither  he  nor  any  of  his  relatives  ever 
had  a  superfluous  sixpence.  By  office?  He  held  but 
one,  and  that  only  for  a  few  years,  of  no  influence,  and 
with  very  little  pay.  By  talents?  His  were  not 
splendid,  and  he  had  no  genius;  cautious  and  slow, 
his  only  ambition  was  to  be  right.  By  eloquence? 
He  spoke  in  calm  good  taste,  without  any  of  the  ora- 
tory that  either  terrifies  or  seduces.  By  any  fascina- 
tion of  manner?  His  was  only  correct  and  agreeable. 
By  what,  then,  was  it?  Merely  by  sense,  industry, 
good  principles,  and  a  good  heart, — qualities  which 
no  well-constituted  mind  need  ever  despair  of  attain- 
ing. It  was  the  force  of  his  character  that  raised  him, 
and  this  character  not  impressed  upon  him  by  nature, 
but  formed  out  of  no  peculiarly  fine  elements  by  him- 
self. Horner  was  born  to  show  what  moderate 
powers,  unaided  by  anything  wrhatever  except  culture 
and  goodness,  may  achieve,  even  when  these  powers 
are  displayed  amidst  the  competition  and  jealousy  of 
public  life. 

It  is  lesson  after  lesson  with  the  scholar,  blow  after 
blow  with  the  laborer,  crop  after  crop  with  the  farmer, 
picture  after  picture  with  the  painter,  and  mile  after 
mile  with  the  traveler,  that  secures  what  all  so  much 
desire — success. 


POWER    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES.  25 


POWER  OF   CIRCUMSTANCES. 


"There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men 
Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune; 
Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 
Is  bound  in  shallows  and  miseries." 

— SHAKESPERE. 


thoughtful  person  will  deny  that  circum- 
stances have  much  to  do  in  determining 
the  course  and  current  of  human  life,  but 
there  are  hundreds  of  men  who  are  al- 
ways talking  about  good  and  bad  luck,  and 
who  seem  to  think  that  fate  is  ordering  the  course  of 
their  lives  and  bestowing  success  or  failure  as  its 
caprice  or  fancy  may  at  the  time  decide.  It  will  be 
well,  therefore,  at  the  outset  to  examine  this  question 
carefully  and  see,  if  we  can,  how  much  of  truth  there 
is  involved  in  it,  and  how  much  of  error. 

About  all  of  solid  truth  there  is  in  the  idea  of 
"chance"  is  this:  Circumstances  do  combine  some- 
times to  give  men  very  favorable  opportunities  for 
improving  their  condition,  as  well  as  for  grasping  rare 
and  precious  prizes  in  life.  These  happy  combina- 
tions of  circumstances  are  apparently  fortuitous,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  they  may  be  the  result  of  regular 
and  established  forces  whose  operations  are  entirely 
hidden  from  human  vision  ;  and  this,  doubtless,  is  the 
idea  that  Shakespere  intended  to  convey  in  the 


26  POWER    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES. 

famous  quotation  which  opens  this  chapter.  "  There 
is  a  tide,"  he  says,  "  in  the  affairs  of  men,  which,  taken 
at  ks  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune." 

But  who  controlled  this  tide,  or  by  what  laws  its 
ebbings  and  flowings  were  regulated,  he  does  not  pre- 
tend to  state.  And  with  good  reason,  for  he  did  not 
know.  Neither  does  any  one.  The  utmost  which 
can  be  said  about  the  matter  is,  that  circumstances 
will,  and  do  combine  to  help  men  at  some  periods  of 
their  lives,  and  combine  to  thwart  them  at  others. 
This  much  we  freely  admit ;  but  there  is  no  fatality 
in  these  combinations,  neither  any  such  thing  as 
"luck"  or  "chance,"  as  commonly  understood.  They 
come  and  go  like  all  other  opportunities  and  occasions 
in  life,  and  if  they  are  seized  upon  and  made  the  most 
of,  the  man  whom  they  benefit  is  fortunate  ;  but  if 
they  are  neglected  and  allowed  to  pass  by  unim- 
proved, he  is  unfortunate. 

"  There  is  a  divinity  (or  something  else)  which 
shapes  our  ends,  rough-hew  them  as  we  will."  But 
Shakespere's  thought  here  is  not  that  this  divinity, 
or  this  something  else,  invariably  dictates  just  what 
a  man  shall  be  or  shall  do,  but  rather  that  this 
divinity  is  so  kind,  merciful,  and  fatherly  in  his 
feelings  toward  the  race,  as  well  as  in  his  government 
over  it,  that  he  comes  into  life's  workshop  where  man 
is  building  up  an  eternal  character  and  destiny,  and 
graciously  smooths,  polishes  and  rounds  off  what  man 
in  his  ignorance  and  feebleness  leaves  in  a  rough- 
hewn  state.  In  other  words,  he  so  fixes  up  the  re- 
sults of  human  life  for  men,  that  they  are  in  a  much 
better  shape  and  condition  than  they  would  be  but 
for  his  kindly  interference  and  assistance. 


LUCK.  27 

There  is,  however,  no  absolute  dictation  or  iron- 
bound  fatality  in  all  this — rather  the  opposite.  While 
we  would  not  ignore  the  existence  of  a  great  Super- 
intending Power  of  the  universe,  in  whose  hands  and 
under  whose  control  are  all  things  in  heaven  and  on 
earth  ;  while  we  willingly  recognize  the  existence  of 
some  circumstances  over  which  man  has  no  jurisdic- 
tion, still  there  is  nothing  in  these  two  facts  which  in 
any  way  hinders  one  from  being  successful  and  happy 
if  he  observes  well  the  laws  of  his  being  as  well  as 
those  which  control  the  movements  of  ordinary  life, 
commercial  activity,  and  historic  development.  We 
are  not  mere  living  and  breathing  human  machines, 
by  any  means  ;  but  on  the  contrary,  we  are  free  and 
responsible  agents  gifted  with  the  power  of  choice, 
capable  of  discovering  right  from  wrong,  and  with  full 
and  complete  liberty  to  do  what  we  will,  and  be  what 
we  can. 

LUCK. 

Dr.  Matthews  has  well  said  that  "  there  is  hardly 
any  word  in  the  whole  human  vocabulary  which  is 
more  cruelly  abused  than  the  word  Muck.'  To  all  the 
faults  and  failures  of  men,  their  positive  sins  and  their 
less  culpable  shortcomings,  it  is  made  to  stand  a  god- 
father and  a  sponsor.  Go  talk  with  the  bankrupt 
man  of  business,  who  has  swamped  his  fortune  by 
wild  speculation,  extravagance  of  living,  or  lack  of  en- 
ergy, and  you  will  find  that  he  vindicates  his  course 
by  confounding  the  steps  which  he  took  indiscreetly 
with  those  to  which  he  was  forced  by  'circumstances/ 
and  complacently  regards  himself  as  the  victim  of  ill- 
luck.  Go  visit  the  incarcerated  criminal,  who  has  im- 


28  LUCK. 

brued  his  hands  in  the  blood  of  his  fellow-man,  or 
who  is  guilty  of  less  heinous  crimes,  and  you  will  find 
that,  joining  the  temptations  which  were  easy  to 
avoid  with  those  which  were  comparatively  irresisti- 
ble, he  has  hurriedly  patched  up  a  treaty  with  his  con- 
science, and  stifles  its  compunctious  visitings  by  per- 
suading himself  that,  from  first  to  last,  he  was  the 
victim  of  circumstances.  Go  talk  with  the  weak- 
spirited  man  who,  from  lack  of  energy  and  applica- 
tion, has  made  but  little  headway  in  the  world,  being 
outstripped  in  the  race  of  life  by  those  whom  he  had 
despised  as  his  inferiors,  and  you  will  find  that  he, 
too,  acknowledges  the  all-potent  power  of  luck,  and 
soothes  his  humbled  pride  by  deeming  himself  the 
victim  of  ill-fortune.  In  short,  from  the  most  venial 
offence  to  the  most  flagrant,  there  is  hardly  any  wrong 
act  or  neglect  to  which  this  too  fatally  convenient 
word  is  not  applied  as  a  palliation." 

It  is  indeed  singular  how  many  men  have  professed 
to  believe  in  this  foolish  idea  of  luck  or  chance. 
"  Beau  Brummell,"  as  he  was  familiarly  known  (real 
name,  George  Bryan  Brummell),  had  what  he  called 
a  lucky  sixpence,  which  he  always  carried  in  his 
pocket.  Like  all  other  fashionable  men  of  his  day 
(1812-20)  he  was  addicted  to  gaming,  and  with  this 
lucky  sixpence  about  him  he  is  said  to  have  won  40,- 
ooo  pounds  in  the  clubs  of  London  and  Newmarket. 
Afterward,  he  lost  his  sixpence,  and  with  it  his 
"luck,"  as  he  was  pleased  to  term  it,  was  beaten  out 
of  his  fortune,  ran  away  to  Calais  in  France,  where 
he  dragged  out  a  miserable  existence,  and  finally  died 
in  Caen,  in  beggary  and  imbecility.  But  for  what, 
pray,  was  Beau  Brummell  distinguished  ?  Simply  for 


ACCIDENTS.  29 

the  fastidiousness  of  his  dress.  He  aspired  to  be  the 
best-dressed  gentleman  in  England,  and  won  his 
greatest  victories  tying  his  cravats.  Is  he  very  good 
authority  on  this  subject  ?  Cardinal  Mazarin,  the 
successor  of  Richelieu  under  Louis  XIII,  and  the 
original  Rothschild,  seems  also  to  have  been  wedded 
to  this  idea,  while  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans 
fully  accepted  the  theory,  and  called  the  mysterious 
governing  power  Destiny.  "  Some  people,"  says 
Pliny,  "refer  their  successes  to  virtue  and  ability  ;  but 
it  is  all  fate."  The  great  Alexander  depended  much 
upon  luck.  Cicero  speaks  of  it  in  connection  with  the 
Roman  Emperors  and  Generals  as  a  settled  thing. 
Caesar  was  carried  away  with  the  idea,  and  once  when 
crossing  the  sea  in  a  storm,  he  pompously  told  the 
frightened  pilot,  "  You  carry  Caesar  and  his  good  for- 
tune." Napoleon,  the  Caesar  of  modern  times,  was 
always  talking  about  his  "star."  Marlborough,  one 
of  England's  greatest  generals,  had  some  similar  no- 
tions about  destiny,  and  so  had  Cromwell  and  Lord 
Nelson.  On  the  other  hand,  Wellington,  the  "Iron 
Duke,"  as  he  was  called,  though  he  never  lost  a 
battle,  never  spoke  of  luck  or  destiny,  but  always 
carefully  guarded  himself  against  all  possible 
accidents. 

ACCIDENTS. 

There  are  also  such  things  as  "happy  accidents," 
although  the  difference  between  this  term  and  the 
one  already  used,  is  not  very  great.  For  example,  we 
read  of  a  man  who,  worn  out  by  a  painful  disorder,  at- 
tempted suicide,  and  was  cured  by  opening  an  inter- 
nal abscess ;  of  a  Persian,  condemned  to  lose  his 


30  ACCIDENTS. 

tongue,  on  whom  the*  operation  was  so  bunglingly 
performed  that  it  merely  removed  an  impediment  in 
his  speech  ;  of  a  painter  who  produced  an  effect  he 
had  long  toiled  after  in  vain,  by  throwing  his  brush 
at  the  picture  in  a  fit  of  rage  and  despair ;  of  a  musi- 
cal composer,  who,  having  exhausted  his  patience  in 
attempts  to  imitate  on  the  piano  a  storm  at  sea,  ac- 
complished the  precise  result  by  angrily  extending  his 
hands  to  the  extremities  of  the  keys,  and  bringing 
them  rapidly  together.  We  also  read  of  Mahomet, 
who,  flying  from  his  enemies,  was  saved  by  a  spider's 
web  ;  of  a  Whig  Ministry,  which  was  hurled  from 
power  in  England  by  the  spilling  of  some  water  on  a 
lady's  gown ;  of  our  own  Franklin,  who  always 
ascribed  his  turn  of  thought  and  conduct  through 
life  to  the  finding  of  a  tattered  copy  of  Cotton 
Mather's  "Essays  to  Do  Good;"  of  Jeremy  Bentham, 
who  attributed  similar  effects  to  the  single  phrase, 
"The  greatest  good  of  the  greatest  number,"  which 
caught  his  eye  at  the  end  of  a  pamphlet. 

But  again,  there  are  as  many  bad  accidents  as  good 
ones,  and  they  come  and  go  just  as  mysteriously;  so 
nothing  definite  can  be  determined  concerning  the 
causes  of  either  good  or  bad.  One  man  sucks  an 
orange  and  is  choked  by  the  pit,  and  another  swallows 
a  penknife  and  recovers.  One  man  runs  a  small  thorn 
into  his  hand  and  dies  in  spite  of  the  utmost  efforts  of 
medical  skill,  and  another  runs  the  shaft  of  a  gig  com- 
pletely through  his  body,  and  lives.  The  Scottish 
hero,  Bruce,  after  passing  through  a  series  of  perils 
greater  than  any  ever  conceived  by  the  most  daring 
romance-writer,  dies  from  a  fall  in  handing  a  lady 
down  stairs  after  dinner.  The  African  explorer, 


ACCIDENTS.  31 

Speke,  after  escaping  innumerable  dangers  in  penetrat- 
ing to  the  sources  of  the  Nile,  accidentally  shoots  him- 
self at  his  home  in  England. 

A  writer  in  the  Dublin  University  Magazine  gives 
the  following  facts  concerning  the  poetical  immortality 
of  Sir  John  Moore,  which  have  a  bearing  on  this  sub- 
ject. He  says:  "  Moore  had  fought  as  other  generals 
had,  with  alternate  success  and  reverse,  but  on  the 
whole  had  just  been  able  to  keep  his  head  above 
water  before  the  advancing  army  of  Soult.  On  the 
walls  of  Corunna  he  met  his  fate,  and  might  have  lain 
there,  as  hundreds  of  others  did,  in  an  unrecorded 
grave,  to  this  and  to  all  future  ages,  had  not  an 
ordinary  Irish  parson,  from  a  remote  country  parish, 
and  from  amid  common  prosaic  pursuits,  caught  a 
glance,  in  his  imagination,  of  the  lifeless  warrior,  as 
he  was  hurried  to  a  hasty  grave,  in  the  silence  of  the 
night,  within  the  sound  of  the  advancing  enemy's 
guns.  The  look  was  enough, — the  picture  was  taken, 
with  its  full  significance  of  pathos,  into  the  heart  of 
the  poet;  and,  when  it  reappeared,  it  was  found  to 
have  been  incrusted  with  amber,  thereafter  nevermore 
to  pass  away.  It  is  true,  little  ceremony  was  observed 
at  that  burial,— 

'Not  a  drum  was  heard,  nor  a  funeral  note;' 

but  the  lyre  was  struck,  and  the  echoes  went  forth  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth;  and  so  John  Moore  passed,  by 
the  narrow  channel  of  those  few  hasty  and  careless 
stanzas,  from  the  shores  of  oblivion,  where  he  would 
have  wandered  till  doomsday  with  thousands  of  un- 
recorded comrades,  to  the  Isles  of  the  Blest,  wherein 


32  OPPORTUNITIES. 

the  favorite  heroes  of  all  ages  have  pitched  their  tents, 
and  exalted  their  standard." 

OPP  OR  T  UNITIES. 

So  far  then  from  circumstances  being  a  hindrance 
to  men  in  trying  to  be  successful,  they  give  men 
opportunities  and  occasions  to  do  something.  The 
successful  man  is  not  he  who  sits  down  and  idly 
folds  his  arms,  saying,  it  is  of  no  use;  but  rather  he 
who  takes  advantage  of  circumstances  when  they  are 
propitious,  and  endeavors  to  overcome  them  when 
adverse.  "  'Tis  not  in  our  stars,  dear  Brutus,  but  in 
ourselves,  that  we  are  underlings."  The  word  luck  is 
a  mere  bugbear  for  the  idle,  the  languid,  and  the  in- 
different. Here  are  two  boys  in  the  same  home,  with 
the  same  parents,  and  the  same  opportunities  and 
means;  but  one  grows  up  and  uses  his  circumstances 
as  stepping-stones  to  fortune,  the  other  becomes  reck- 
less, and  dissipated,  and  worthless.  The  race  is  not 
always  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong;  but 
by  the  right  application  of  swiftness  and  strength  to 
the  object  in  view,  most  any  one  can  achieve  success. 
For  the  world  in  general  is  won  by  doing  the  right 
thing,  in  the  right  way,  and  at  the  right  time.  Says 
Wendell  Phillips:  "Common  sense  bows  to  the  in- 
evitable and  makes  use  of  it" — as  a  skillful  mariner 
uses  the  trade-wind.  "  It  does  not  ask  an  impossible 
chess-board,  but  takes  the  one  before  it,  and  plays  the 
best  game  "  possible  under  existing  combinations. 

"  Who  breaks  his  birth's  invidious  bar, 
And  grasps  the  skirts  of  happy  chance, 
And  breasts  the  blows  of  circumstance, 
And  grapples  with  his  evil  star," 


FORTUNE.  33 

is,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  fortunate  and  success- 
ful man.  Every  man  is  placed  more  or  less  under 
the  influence  of  events,  and  the  influence  of  other 
men,  and  it  is  for  himself  to  decide  whether  he  will 
rule,  or  be  ruled  by  them.  Those  whom  the  world 
calls  "lucky  fellows"  will  be  found  in  the  majority  of 
cases,  to  be  keen-sighted  men  who  have  surveyed  the 
world  with  a  scrutinizing  eye,  and  who,  to  clear  and 
exact  ideas  of  what  is  necessary  to  be  done,  unite  the 
skill  necessary  to  execute  their  well-approved  plans. 

As  another  has  said:  "In  the  life  of  the  most 
unlucky  person  there  are  always  some  occasions  when, 
by  prompt  and  vigorous  action,  he  may  win  the  things 
he  has  at  heart.  Raleigh  flung  his  laced  jacket  into  a 
puddle,  and  won  a  proud  queen's  favor.  A  village 
apothecary  chanced  to  visit  the  state  apartments  at 
the  Pavilion,  when  George  the  Fourth  was  seized  with 
a  fit.  He  bled  him,  brought  him  back  to  conscious- 
ness, and,  by  his  genial  and  quaint  humor,  made  the 
king  laugh.  The  monarch  took  a  fancy  to  him,  made 
him  his  physician,  and  made  his  fortune.  Probably 
no  man  ever  lives  to  middle  age  to  whom  two  or  three 
such  opportunities  do  not  present  themselves.  'There 
is  nobody,'  says  a  Roman  cardinal,  'whom  Fortune 
does  not  visit  once  in  his  life  ;  but  when  she  finds  he 
is  not  ready  to  receive  her,  she  goes  in  at  the  door, 
and  out  through  the  window.'  Opportunity  is  coy. 
The  careless,  the  slow,  the  unobservant,  the  lazy,  fail 
to  see  it,  or  clutch  at  it  when  it  has  gone.  The  sharp 
fellows  detect  it  instantly,  and  catch  it  when  on  the 

wing." 

FORTUNE. 

Fortune  has  usually  been  represented   as  a  blind 


34  FORTUNE. 

goddess.  Rare  Old  Ben  Jonson  wrote  many  years 
ago  that 

"All  human  business  fortune  doth  command 
Without  any  order:  and  with  her  blind  hand 
She,  blind,  bestows  blind  gifts." 

But  he  was  speaking  with  poetic  license  just  then,  and 
told  a  practical  untruth,  although  he  only  expressed  a 
popular  idea.  Equally  untrue  is  the  following 
heathenish  conception: 

"On  high,  where  no  hoarse  winds  or  clouds  resort, 
The  hood-winked  goddess  keeps  her  partial  court, 
Upon  a  wheel  of  amethyst  she  sits, 
Gives  and  resumes,  smiles  and  frowns." 

Let  us  away  with  all  such  crude  notions — they  are 
unworthy  the  intelligence  and  enlightenment  of  our 
nineteenth  century.  Robert  Burns  had  better  sense 
when  he  wrote, 

"  To  catch  dame  fortune's  golden  smile, 
Assiduous  wait  upon  her." 

Fortune,  luck,  chance  —  whatever  you  call  it  —  is 
nothing  more  or  less  than  a  happy  or  fortunate  combi- 
nation of  circumstances,  which  arise  partly  from  the 
operation  of  invisible  but  established  forces  in  nature, 
and  in  God,  and  partly  from  the  activity  of  strong 
minds  and  wills  in  brave,  heroic  souls.  Consequently 
they  can  be  used  to  advantage,  or  allowed  to  crush 
one,  just  as  the  person  himself  decides. 

"  Our  remedies  oft  in  ourselves  do  lie, 
Which  we  ascribe  to  heaven;  the  fated  sky 


FORTUNE. 

Gives  us  free  scope ;  and  only  backward  pulls 
Our  slow  designs  when  we  ourselves  are  dull." 

«  Walk 

Boldly  and  wisely  in  that  light  thou  hast ; 
There  is  a  hand  above  will  help  thee  on." 

— BAILEY'S  FESTUS. 


35 


36  VOCATION. 


VOCA  TION. 


"Brutes  find  out  where  their  talents  lie; 
A  bear  will  not  attempt  to  fly, 
A  foundered  horse  will  oft  debate 
Before  he  tries  a  five-barred  gate. 
A  dog  by  instinct  turns  aside 
Who  sees  the  ditch  too  deep  and  wide. 
But  man  we  find  the  only  creature 
Who,  led  by  folly,  combats  nature; 
Who,  when  she  loudly  cries — forbear! 
With  obstinacy  fixes  there; 
And  where  his  genius  least  inclines, 
Absurdly  bends  his  whole  designs." 

— DEAN  SWIFT. 


iHE  two  most  important  things  for  a  young 
man  just  starting  out  in  life  to  determine 
are,  vocation  and  location,  or  what  shall 
he  turn  his  hand  to,  and  where  shall  he 
settle  ? 

Concerning  the  calling  or  occupation  which  a  young 
man  should  choose  as  his  life-work,  we  urge  first  that 
the  question  should  engage  his  most  serious  thought 
and  earnest  study  before  coming  to  any  decision.  A 
mistake  here  may  prove  fatal  through  life,  and  no  man 
can  afford  to  throw  away  his  time  and  energies  reck- 
lessly. At  the  very  best  we  have  only  one  life  to  live 
on  earth,  and  that  one  is  not  very  long  at  the  longest. 


NATURAL   CAPACITIES.  37 

There  is  many  a  man  who  has  made  perfect  shipwreck 
of  himself  and  his  prospects,  by  rushing  hastily  and 
ill-advisedly  into  some  business  or  profession  for 
which  he  was  in  no  wise  adapted,  and  then  not  finding 
out  his  mistake  until  so  many  years  of  his  life  had 
passed  away  in  experimenting,  that  it  became  too  late 
to  change  callings  to  advantage.  A  man's  only  alter- 
native in  such  a  case  is  to  continue  on  as  he  begun, 
and  make  the  best  of  his  choice,  or  throw  up  his 
calling  and  try  again  with  the  feeling  that  he  starts  in 
his  new  line  of  work  ten  or  fifteen  years  behind  others 
in  his  class.  Either  horn  of  this  dilemma  will  be  sure 
to  gore  the  mind  and  feelings  of  the  one  choosing  it, 
and  leave  behind  a  perpetually  sore  spot  in  his 
memory  and  consciousness.  Therefore  we  repeat  the 
remark,  that  this  question  should  be  well  considered 
by  all  concerned,  by  young  men,  their  parents  and 
friends,  before  any  decision  is  made. 

NATURAL  CAPACITIES. 

"Be  what  nature  intended  you  for,  and  you  will  suc- 
ceed; but  be  anything  else,  and  you  will  be  worse  than 
nothing."  Good  old  Roger  Ascham,  who  was  the  pre- 
ceptor of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  one  of  the  first  writers 
on  education  in  the  English  language  (living  about 
1540),  said  upon  this  subject,  "The  ignorance  in  men 
who  know  not  for  what  time  and  to  what  thing  they 
be  fit,  causeth  some  to  wish  themselves  rich  for  whom 
it  were  better  a  great  deal  to  be  poor ;  some  to  desire 
to  be  in  the  court,  which  be  born  and  be  fitter  rather 
for  the  cart ;  some  to  be  masters  and  rule  others,  who 
never  yet  began  to  rule  themselves ;  some  to  teach, 


NATURAL    CAPACITIES. 


which  rather  should  learn;  some  to  be  priests,  which 
were  fitter  to  be  clerks." 

Again,  Dr.  Matthews  has  well  observed  that  "to  no 
other  cause,  perhaps,  is  failure  in  life  so  frequently  to 
be  traced,  as  to  a  mistaken  calling.  A  youth  who 
might  become  a  first-rate  mechanic  chances  to  have 
been  born  of  ambitious  parents,  who  think  it  more 
honorable  for  their  son  to  handle  the  lancet  than  the 
chisel,  and  so  make  him  a  doctor.  Accordingly  he  is 
sent  to  college,  pitchforked  through  a  course  of  Latin 
and  Greek,  attends  lectures,  crams  for  an  examination, 
gets  a  diploma,  and  with  'all  his  blushing  honors  thick 
upon  his  vacant  head,'  settles  down  to  pour,  as 
Voltaire  said,  drugs  of  which  he  knows  little,  into 
bodies  of  which  he  knows  less, — till  his  incapacity  is 
discovered,  when  he  starves.  In  another  case,  a  boy 
is  forced  by  unwise  parents  to  measure  tape  and 
calico,  when  nature  shows  by  his  intellectual  acumen, 
—by  his  skill  in  hair-splitting,  his  adroitness  at  parry 
and  thrust,  his  fertility  of  resources  in  every  exigency, 
and  a  score  of  other  signs, — that  she  designed  him  for 
the  bar  or  the  forum." 

Many  a  man  has  gone  into  business  possessing  no 
business  brains.  But  as  no  sensible  father  would  try 
to  make  a  musician  of  his  son  unless  he  had  a  natural 
ear  for  music,  so  no  sensible  father  will  put  his  son 
into  business  unless  he  discover  in  him  some  natural 
aptness  for  trade.  Again,  the  idea  that  no  man  can 
be  really  respectable  or  honorable  among  men  without 
going  into  one  of  the  three  learned  professions,  as 
they  are  called,  namely,  Law,  Medicine  and  Divinity, 
is  one  of  the  most  false,  mischievous  notions  which 
ever  obtained  a  lodgment  in  the  popular  mind.  This 


A    WARNING    EXAMPLE.  39 

idea  "has  spoiled  many  a  good  carpenter,  done  injus- 
tice to  the  sledge  and  the  anvil,  cheated  the  goose  and 
the  shears  out  of  their  rights,  and  committed  fraud  on 
the  corn  and  the  potato  field.  Thousands  have  died 
of  broken  hearts  in  these  professions, — thousands  who 
might  have  been  happy  at  the  plow,  or  opulent  be- 
hind the  counter ;  thousands,  dispirited  and  hopeless, 
look  upon  the  healthful  and  independent  calling  of  the 
farmer  with  envy  and  chagrin  ;  thousands  more,  by  a 
worse  fate  still,  are  reduced  to  necessities  which 
degrade  them  in  their  own  estimation,  and  render  the 
most  brilliant  success  but  a  wretched  compensation 
for  the  humiliation  with  which  it  is  accompanied." 

A   WARNING  EXAMPLE. 

To  illustrate  the  truthfulness  of  the  foregoing  ob- 
servations, the  writer  remembers  the  case  of  a  boy 
whom  he  knew  in  early  youth.  The  lad  was  born  and 
reared  in  a  sparsely-settled  and  rather  out-of-the-way 
corner  of  a  New  England  town.  His  parents  were 
poor  but  sensible  farming  people,  working  hard  to 
bring  up  a  somewhat  numerous  family  on  a  naturally 
rocky  and  somewhat  sterile  piece  of  land.  The  boy 
was  a  bright,  active  lad,  easy  to  learn  and  with  a  very 
retentive  memory.  His  advantages  for  learning, 
however,  were  nothing  more  than  ordinary,  and  up  to 
early  manhood  he  had  attended  nothing  higher  than 
the  common  district  school.  But  as  he  began  to  read 
and  expand  mentally,  he  tired  of  these  lowly  and 
humble  surroundings,  and  panted  for  distinction  and 
greatness  in  a  larger  sphere  of  life. 

It  was  common  in  that  part  of  the  world  and  at  that 


40  A    WARNING    EXAMPLE. 

time,  for  the  minister  of  the  parish  church  to  be 
looked  upon  as  the  highest  in  rank  and  ability  of  all 
the  surrounding  population.  Moreover,  the  boy's 
mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  widely-known  and  justly- 
revered  minister,  whose  visits  to  the  boy's  home,  taken 
in  connection  with  the  general  sentiment  of  the  place 
and  time,  naturally  turned  his  thoughts  toward  the 
ministerial  calling.  His  mother,  too,  was  very 
anxious  that  one  of  her  sons  should  imitate  her 
father's  example,  and  follow  in  the  same  path  of  use- 
fulness and  honor.  This  little  boy,  whom  we  will  call 
Jerry,  had  been  selected  by  her  almost  from  his  birth 
as  the  one  to  be  thus  consecrated  to  the  Lord.  So, 
when  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  Jerry  was  converted, 
joined  the  parish  church  and  began  to  exhort  in  the 
evening  meetings,  his  own  thoughts,  as  well  as  those 
of  his  mother  and  the  parish  priest,  at  once  recurred 
to  this  pre-determined  choice  of  a  profession.  The 
duty  of  entering  the  ministry  was  urged  upon  him 
with  a  force  which  he  found  very  difficult  to  resist, 
accompanied,  as  it  was,  by  a  mother's  appeals  and 
prayers,  and  a  minister's  solemn  adjurations.  Still 
Jerry  hesitated;  he  did  not  really  want  to  be  a  minis- 
ter. In  fact,  he  had  marked  out  in  his  own  mind  a 
career  of  a  different  sort. 

From  boyhood  he  had  always  loved  composition, 
and  to  be  able  to  write  an  article  for  a  paper  or  a 
magazine  was  at  that  time  the  height  of  his  ambition. 
While  working  on  the  farm  with  his  father,  he  went 
into  the  neighboring  woods,  set  snares  for  wild  game, 
sold  it  when  caught,  took  the  money,  and  bought 
paper,  pens  and  ink,  built  himself  a  rude,  unplaned, 
and  unpainted  pine  table  in  the  old  attic,  and  there 


A    WARNING    EXAMPLE.  41 

commenced  to  write  articles  for  the  weekly  paper 
which  came  regularly  to  his  home.  The  first  three 
articles  sent  were  rejected,  but  the  fourth  one,  much 
changed  by  the  editor,  was  published.  The  joy  of 
Jerry's  heart  on  seeing  his  own  composition  in  print, 
along  with  others  from  higher  and  more  gifted  minds, 
was  greater  than  can  well  be  described  here.  He  in- 
wardly resolved  then  and  there  that  he  would  be  an 
author,  if  it  was  a  possible  thing,  and  to  that  project 
his  whole  heart  was  given.  Still,  urged  on  by  his 
mother  and  the  parish  minister,  whose  exhortations 
and  warnings  were  half  reinforced  by  the  fears  and 
misgivings  of  his  own  mind  should  he  dare  to  refuse, 
he  gave  his  consent  to  enter  upon  the  sacred  work, 
and  posted  off  to  school  to  prepare  himself  for  it. 

Years  rolled  by,  and  the  close  of  them  found  Jerry 
still  halting  between  two  opinions,  endeavoring  out- 
wardly to  conform  to  the  requirements  of  his  chosen 
profession,  and  wishing  inwardly  that  he  could  follow 
out  the  bent  of  his  nature.  The  struggle  went  on 
between  these  forces  up  to  the  day  of  his  formal  en- 
trance upon  his  work  ;  yea,  more  than  this,  went  right 
on  after  that  event,  just  the  same  as  before.  And  thus 
Jerry  lived  and  worked  for  twelve  years  in  a  divided 
state  of  mind.  Did  he  succeed  in  his  profession  ?  It 
is  almost  superfluous  to  inquire.  By  the  strictest  at- 
tention to  his  work,  buoyed  up  by  the  hope  of  being 
able  to  rise  in  his  profession  after  awhile,  he  passed 
among  others  of  his  class  as  a  man  who  had  ability 
enough  to  succeed,  but  whose  heart  was  not  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  duties  and  sacrifices  of  his  calling. 
He  was  trying  to  do  what  nature  never  intended  him 
to  do ;  under  such  circumstances  no  one  can  succeed. 


42  A    WARNING    EXAMPLE. 

About  the  only  really  successful  element  in  Jerry's 
ministerial  life  was  his  sermons.  While  writing  these 
in  his  study  alone,  he  could  easily  imagine  himself 
writing  articles  for  some  religious  periodical,  and  so 
was  able  to  enter  into  their  construction  with  enthusi- 
asm and  delight. 

Finally,  after  twelve  years  of  varying  experience, 
Jerry  resolved  to  live  a  divided  life  no  longer.  It 
cost  him  a  terrible  struggle  to  come  to  this  conclusion, 
but  he  found  the  old,  inward  love  of  his  heart  daily 
growing  stronger,  and  the  outward  professional  ser- 
vices daily  becoming  correspondingly  feeble  and  un- 
satisfactory ;  and  so  there  was  no  other  alternative. 
But  the  next  question  was,  what  should  he  do  after  the 
change  was  made?  He  realized  he  was  throwing 
away  the  results  of  all  his  previous  years  of  prepara- 
tion and  experience.  He  had  reached  the  age  of  forty, 
and  was  pretty  old  to  commence  a  new  manner  of  life. 
His  habits  of  thought  and  feeling,  too,  had  by  this  time 
become  somewhat  fixed.  And  it  would  be  necessary 
for  him  to  break  these  all  up,  and  commence  anew. 
He  also  found  it  very  much  harder  than  he  had  ex- 
pected to  adapt  himself  to  any  new  service  and  its 
conditions.  The  transition  trial  and  struggle  was 
fearful.  For  a  time  it  seemed  doubtful  whether  Jerry 
would  go  on  to  fame  and  fortune,  or  "go  to  the  dogs" 
in  despair.  But,  like  the  traveler  in  the  fable,  as  the 
storm  increased  he  drew  his  cloak  of  resolution  more 
tightly  about  him  and  pressed  on  toward  the  distant 
goal.  By  and  by  the  clouds  began  to  break  a  little, 
and  the  sun  of  prosperity  came  out  on  Jerry's  lonely 
pathway.  He  had  forded  the  stream  running  between 
two  vocations  of  life  in  which  he  had  tried  to  walk, 


EARLY    INDICATIONS.  43 

but  he  came  within  a  step  of  being  drowned  in  the 
passage. 

Jerry  still  lives,  and  is  working  away  bravely  to 
realize  his  early  hope  and  dream,  but  he  feels  that  he 
will  always  be  a  crippled  man  to  what  he  might  have 
been,  had  he  been  allowed  to  follow  the  bent  of  his 
nature  from  the  beginning.  Hence  we  urge  upon 
parents  the  folly  of  trying  to  make  children  over  into 
something  for  which  they  were  never  fitted  by  birth, 
endowments,  or  early  training.  Better  far  allow  them 
to  choose  their  own  calling  in  life,  after  giving  the 
matter  proper  attention  and  thought,  than  try  to 
coerce  them  into  vocations  which  they  naturally  and 
instinctively  shun. 

EARLT  INDICATIONS. 

It  often  happens  that  this  bent  or  leaning  of  a 
child's  nature  toward  a  certain  calling  or  vocation, 
displays  itself  quite  early  in  life.  Thus  Handel,  the 
great  musical  composer,  when  a  little  boy,  secretly 
bought  a  musical  instrument,  called  a  clavichord,  hid 
it  away  in  the  attic,  and  at  midnight  used  to  go  up 
there  and  play  on  it.  The  strings  of  the  instrument 
were  muffled  with  small  bits  of  fine  woolen  cloth  so 
that  the  softened  sounds  should  not  wake  the  sleeping 
inmates  of  the  house.  Another  equally  famous  com- 
poser, Bach,  used  to  copy  whole  books  by  moonlight 
when  a  candle  had  been  meanly  denied  him.  Benja- 
min West,  the  famous  painter,  began  his  career  when 
a  boy  in  the  garret  of  his  home,  and  made  his  brushes 
out  of  the  long  hairs  of  the  old  family  cat.  Michael 
Angelo,  the  Italian  architect  and  painter,  neglected 


44  EARLY    INDICATIONS. 

school  to  copy  drawings  which  he  dared  not  bring 
home.  Murillo,  a  Spanish  artist,  filled  the  margin  of 
his  school-books  with  drawings.  Dryden,  an  English 
poet,  read  Polybius  before  he  was  ten  years  old.  Le 
Brim,  in  childhood,  drew  with  a  piece  of  charcoal  on 
the  walls  of  the  house.  Alexander  Pope  wrote  excel- 
lent verses  at  fourteen.  Blaise  Pascal,  the  celebrated 
French  mathematician,  composed  at  sixteen  a  tract  on 
the  Conic  Sections.  Lawrence  painted  beautifully 
when  a  mere  boy.  Madame  de  Stael  was  deep  in  the 
philosophy  of  politics  at  an  age  when  other  girls  were 
dressing  dolls.  Lord  Nelson  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  be  a  hero  before  he  was  old  enough  to  be  a  mid- 
shipman ;  and  Napoleon  was  already  at  the  head  of 
armies  when  pelting  his  comrades  with  snowballs  at 
the  military  school  of  Brienne. 

Richard  Wilson,  when  a  mere  child,  indulged  him- 
self with  tracing  figures  of  men  and  animals  on  the 
walls  of  his  father's  house  with  a  burnt  stick.  He 
first  directed  his  attention  to  portrait-painting,  but 
when  in  Italy,  calling  one  day  at  the  house  of 
Zucarelli  and  growing  weary  with  waiting,  he  began 
painting  the  scene  on  which  his  friend's  chamber 
window  looked.  When  Zucarelli  arrived,  he  was  so 
charmed  with  the  picture  that  he  asked  if  Wilson  had 
not  studied  landscape,  to  which  he  replied  that  he  had 
not.  "  Then  I  advise  you,"  said  the  other,  "to  try; 
for  you  are  sure  of  great  success."  Wilson  adopted 
the  advice,  studied,  and  worked  hard,  and  became  a 
great  English  landscape-painter.  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds, when  a  boy,  forgot  his  lessons,  and  took 
pleasure  only  in  drawing,  for  which  his  father  was 
accustomed  to  rebuke  him.  The  boy  was  destined  for 


EARLY    INDICATIONS.  45 

the  profession  of  physic,  but  his  strong  instinct  for  art 
could  not  be  repressed,  and  he  became  a  painter. 
Gainsborough  went  sketching,  when  a  school-boy,  in 
the  woods  of  Sudbury,  and  at  twelve  he  was  a  con- 
firmed artist ;  he  was  a  keen  observer  and  a  hard 
worker, — no  picturesque  feature  of  any  scene  he  had 
once  looked  upon,  escaping  his  diligent  pencil. 
William  Blake,  a  hosier's  son,  employed  himself  in 
drawing  designs  on  the  backs  of  his  father's  shopbills, 
and  making  sketches  on  the  counter.  Edward  Bird, 
when  a  child  only  three  or  four  years  old,  would 
mount  a  chair  and  draw  figures  on  the  walls,  which  he 
called  French  and  English  soldiers.  A  box  of  colors 
was  purchased  for  him,  and  his  father,  desirous  of 
turning  his  love  of  art  to  account,  put  him  apprentice 
to  a  maker  of  tea-trays.  Out  of  this  trade  he  grad- 
ually raised  himself  by  study  and  labor,  to  the  rank  of 
a  Royal  Academician. 

Hogarth,  though  a  very  dull  boy  at  his  lessons, 
took  pleasure  in  making  drawings  of  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet,  and  his  school  exercises  were  more  remark- 
able for  the  ornaments  with  which  he  embellished 
them,  than  for-the  matter  of  the  exercises  themselves. 
Mulready,  when  a  boy,  went  to  the  house  of  the 
sculptor  Banks,  but  the  servant,  angry  at  the  loud 
knock  he  had  given,  scolded  him,  and  was  about  send- 
ing him  away,  when  Banks,  overhearing  her,  himself 
went  out.  The  little  boy  stood  at  the  door  with  some 
drawings  in  his  hand.  "  What  do  you  want  with  me?" 
asked  the  sculptor.  "  I  want,  sir,  if  you  please,  to  be 
admitted  to  draw  at  the  Academy."  Banks  explained 
that  he  himself  could  not  procure  his  admission,  but 
he  asked  to  look  at  the  boy's  drawings.  Examining 


46 


EARLY    INDICATIONS. 


them,  Tie  said,  "Time  enough  for  the  Academy,  my 
little  man  !  Go  home, — mind  your  schooling, — try  to 
make  a  better  drawing  of  the  Apollo, — and  in  a 
month  come  again  and  let  me  see  it."  The  boy  went 
home, — sketched  and  worked  with  redoubled  diligence, 
—and,  at  the  end  of  the  month,  called  again  on  the 
sculptor.  The  drawing  was  better,  but  again  Banks 
sent  him  back,  with  good  advice,  to  work  and  study. 
In  a  week  the  boy  was  again  at  his  door  with  drawing 
much  improved.  Banks  now  bade  him  be  of  good 
cheer,  for  if  he  continued  to  improve  thus,  he  would 
be  sure  to  distinguish  himself ;  which  prophecy  was 
afterward  amply  fulfilled. 

Faraday,  the  noted  scientist,  made  his  first  electri- 
cal machine  out  of  a  bottle,  while  Lord  Bacon,  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  had  successfully  pointed  out  the  er- 
rors of  Aristotle's  philosophy.  So,  John  Smeaton,  the 
builder  of  the  Eddystone  lighthouse,  on  the  English 
coast,  when  in  petticoats  was  discovered  on  the  top  of 
his  father's  barn  fixing  up  the  model  of  a  windmill 
which  he  had  constructed.  M.  Carnot,  who,  during 
the  Napoleonic  wars,  could  direct  the  movements  of 
fourteen  armies  at  one  and  the  same  time,  went  to  a 
theater  when  a  boy,  and  seeing  some  poor  military 
tactics  on  the  stage,  instinctively  cried  out  his  disap- 
probation at  the  players. 

Sometimes  little  circumstances  wake  up  the  right 
idea  in  a  boy  or  man.  Thus  George  Law,  the  steam- 
boat king  and  millionaire,  found  in  an  old  stray 
volume  the  story  of  a  farmer's  son  who  went  away  to 
seek  his  fortune,  and  came  home  rich ;  whereupon 
George  himself  set  out  and  beat  the  achievements  of 
the  boy  in  the  story  all  out  of  sight.  It  is  said  of  the 


EARLY    INDICATIONS.  47 

great  philanthropist,  Thomas  Clarkson,  that  when  he 
was  a  competitor  for  the  prize  essay  at  Cambridge,  he 
had  never  thought  upon  the  subject  to  be  handled, 
which  was,  "May  one  man  lawfully  enslave  another?" 
Chancing  one  day  to  pick  up  in  a  friend's  house 
a  newspaper,  advertising  a  History  of  Guinea,  he 
hastened  to  London,  bought  the  work,  and  there 
found  a  picture  of  cruelties  that  filled  his  soul  with 
horror.  "  Coming  one  day  in  sight  of  Wade's  mill 
in  Hertfordshire,"  he  says,  "I  sat  down  disconsolate 
on  the  turf  by  the  roadside,  and  held  my  horse.  Here 
a  thought  came  into  my  mind,  that,  if  the  contents  of 
this  essay  were  true,  it  was  time  that  some  person 
should  see  those  calamities  to  their  end." 

Sometimes  a  youth  is  put  at  one  calling  and  fails, 
and  then  tries  another  and  succeeds.  But  this  must 
always  be  done  in  early  life.  To  change  vocations 
after  many  years  have  gone  by,  is  more  or  less  danger- 
ous, as  has  been  shown.  It  is  said  that  the  father  of 
John  Adams,  the  second  President  of  the  United 
States,  tried  to  make  a  shoemaker  of  his  son,  and 
accordingly  gave  him,  one  day,  some  uppers  to  cut  out 
by  a  pattern  that  had  a  three-cornered  hole  in  it,  by 
which  it  had  hung  upon  a  nail.  John  went  to  work, 
and  followed  the  pattern  exactly,  three-cornered  hole 
and  all !  In  Macmillan's  Magazine  there  is  an  incident 
of  a  similar  nature.  A  young  man,  whose  bluntness 
was  such  that  every  effort  to  turn  him  to  account  in  a 
linen  drapery  establishment  was  found  unavailing, 
received  from  his  employer  the  customary  note  that 
he  would  not  suit,  and  must  go.  •'  But  I'm  good  for 
something,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  unwilling  to  be 
turned  out  into  the  street.  "  You  are  good  for 


48 


CHANGING   VOCATIONS, 


nothing  as  a  salesman,"  said  the  principal,  regarding 
him  from  his  selfish  point  of  view0  "  I  am  sure  I  can 
be  useful,"  repeated  the  young  man0  "  How  ?  tell  me 
how."  "  I  don't  know,  sir  ;  I  don't  know."  "  Nor  do 
I."  And  the  principal  laughed  as  he  saw  the  eager- 
ness the  lad  displayed.  "  Only  don't  put  me  away, 
sir ;  don't  put  me  away.  Try  me  at  something  besides 
selling.  I  cannot  sell;  I  know  I  cannot  sell"  "I 
know  that,  too  ;  that  is  what  is  wrong."  "  But  I  can 
make  myself  useful  somehow  ;  I  know  I  can."  The 
blunt  boy,  who  could  not  be  turned  into  a  salesman; 
and  whose  manner  was  so  little  captivating  that  he 
was  nearly  sent  about  his  business,  was  accordingly 
tried  at  something  else.  He  was  placed  in  the  count- 
ing-house, where  his  aptitude  for  figures  soon  showed 
itself,  and  in  a  few  years  he  became,  not  only  chief 
cashier  in  the  concern,  but  eminent  as  an  accountant 
throughout  the  country. 

CHANGING    VOCATIONS 


The  only  remaining  point  in  this  connection  to  be 
considered  is  this  :  After  choosing  a  vocation  in  life 
deliberately  and  thoughtfully,  it  will  be  better;  as  a 
general  rule,  to  stick  to  it  than  to  change.  Each  man 
will  have  to  determine  for  himself  whether  his  case 
furnishes  an  exception  to  the  rule.  If  it  does,  then  it 
will  be  best  to  change  ;  but  he  ought  to  be  sure  he  is 
right  before  he  goes  ahead.  A  late  writer  on  this 
point  has  forcibly  said:  "In  hours  of  despondency, 
or  when  smarting  under  some  disappointment,  a  young 
man  is  apt  to  fancy  that  in  some  other  calling  he  would 
have  been  more  successful.  It  is  so  easy,  while  re- 


OCCUPATION.  49 

garding  it  at  a  distance,  to  look  at  its  bright  side  only, 
shutting  the  eyes  at  what  is  ugly  and  disagreeable  ;  it 
is  so  easy  to  dream  of  the  resolution  and  tenacity  of 
purpose  with  which  he  would  follow  it,  and  to  mount 
up  in  imagination  to  its  most  dazzling  honors,  and 
clutch  them  in  defiance  of  every  rival,  that  it  is  not 
strange  that  men  abandon  their  professions  for  others 
for  which  they  are  less  fitted.  But  when  we  reflect 
that  the  man  remains  the  same,  whatever  his  calling— 
that  a  mere  change  of  his  position  can  make  no  radi- 
cal change  of  his  mind,  either  by  adding  to  its  strength 
or  diminishing  its  weakness — we  shall  conclude  that 
in  many  cases  what  he  is  in  one  calling,  that  he  would 
be,  substantially,  in  any  other,  and  that  he  will  gain 
nothing  by  the  exchange." 

OCCUPATION. 

It  makes  little  difference  what  vocation  a  man  fol- 
lows, if  honorable  and  legitimate,  so  far  as  his  success 
is  concerned,  if  he  really  likes  it  and  finds  himself 
adapted  to  it.  All  callings  are  alike  honorable,  if 
pursued  with  an  honorable  spirit ;  it  is  the  heart  only 
which  degrades — the  intention  carried  into  the  work, 
and  not  the  work  itself.  The  most  despised  calling 
may  be  made  honorable  by  the  honor  of  its  profes- 
sors ;  a  blacksmith  may  be  a  man  of  polished  manners, 
and  a  millionaire  a  clown ;  a  shoemaker  may  put 
genius  and  taste  into  his  work,  while  a  lawyer  may 
only  cobble.  Better  be  a  first-class  bootblack  than  a 
miserable,  starving  lawyer  or  doctor.  The  day  has 
long  gone  by  when  a  man  need  to  hang  down  his 
head  because  of  the  humbleness  of  his  vocation,  if  it 
is  useful. 


50  LOCATION 


LOCA  TION. 


"  God  made  the  country,  and  man  made  the  townc 
What  wonder,  then,  that  health  and  virtue,  gifts 
That  can  alone  make  sweet  the  bitter  draught 
That  life  holds  out  to  all,  should  most  abound 
And  least  be  threatened,  in* the  fields  and  groves?" 

— COWPER. 


HERE  is,  on  the  part  of  young  people  in 
the  country,  an  eager,  restless  desire  to  get 
away  from  farm  life,  and  go  to  a  city. 
They  dislike  the  drudgery,  the  steady 
hard  work  of  the  farm,  and  think  it  would 
be  much  better  and  nicer  if  they  could  stand  behind  a 
counter  in  some  dry-goods  store,  or  work  in  an  office. 
They  would  then  be  "among  folks,"  they  think,  and 
would  be  able  to  see  for  themselves  "what  is  going 
on."  The  glare  and  glitter,  the  noise  and  bustle,  the 
activity  and  commotion,  the  apparent  splendor  and 
gayety  of  a  city  life,  they  think,  would  just  suit  them, 
and  would  be  so  different  from  the  solitude  and  lone- 
someness  of  the  farm  and  the  farm  home. 

Said  Dr.  J.  G.  Holland  :  "  We  see  young  men  push- 
ing everywhere  into  trade,  into  mechanical  pursuits, 
into  the  learned  professions,  into  insignificant  clerk- 
ships ;  into  salaried  positions  of  every  sort  that  will 


OVERCROWDED    CITIES.  5! 

take  them  into  towns,  and  support  and  hold  them 
there.  We  find  it  impossible  to  drive  poor  people 
from  the  cities  with  the  threat  of  starvation,  or  to 
coax  them  with  the  promise  of  better  pay  and  cheaper 
fare.  There  they  stay,  and  starve,  and  sicken,  and 
sink.  Young  women  resort  to  the  shops  and  the  fac- 
tories rather  than  take  service  in  farmers'  houses, 
where  they  are  received  as  members  of  the  family  ; 
and  when  they  marry,  they  seek  an  alliance,  when 
practicable,  with  mechanics  and  tradesmen  who  live  in 
villages  and  large  towns.  The  daughters  of  the 
farmer  fly  the  farm  at  the  first  opportunity.  The 
towns  grow  larger  all  the  time,  and  in  New  England, 
at  least,  the  farms  are  becoming  wider  and  longer,  and 
the  farming  population  are  diminished  in  numbers, 
and,  in  some  localities,  degraded  in  quality  and 
character." 

While  the  last  part  of  this  quotation  will  not  apply 
as  forcibly  to  Western  life  as  to  Eastern,  yet  the  re- 
mainder of  it  is  very  appropriate,  and  very  true. 

OVERCROWDED   CITIES. 

All  cities  are  generally  overcrowded.  One-fifth  of 
the  entire  population  of  this  country  is  now  in  the 
cities.  Many  of  these  are  men  with  families,  but  a 
large  proportion  of  the  number  are  young  men  and 
women  who  crowd  to  the  cities  from  all  quarters,  look- 
ing for  a  chance  to  change  their  mode  of  life.  Some- 
how or  other,  the  social  life  of  the  village  and  the  city 
has  intense  fascination  to  the  lonely  dwellers  on  the 
farm,  or  to  a  great  multitude  of  them.  Especially  is 
this  the  case  with  the  young.  The  youth  of  both 


52  OVERCROWDED   CITIES. 

sexes  who  have  seen  nothing  of  the  world,  have  an 
overwhelming  desire  to  meet  life,  and  to  be  among 
the  multitude.  "  They  feel  their  lot  to  be  narrow  in 
its  opportunities  and  its  rewards,  and  the  pulsations 
of  the  great  social  heart  that  comes  to  them  in  rush- 
ing trains,  and  passing  steamers,  and  daily  newspapers, 
damp  with  the  dews  of  a  hundred  brows,  thrill  them 
with  longings  for  the  places  where  the  rhythmic  throb 
is  felt  and  heard."  Still,  the  fascination,  we  are  in- 
clined to  think,  is  akin  in  nature,  if  not  in  destructive- 
ness,  to  the  fascination  of  gaming-tables  for  some 
minds,  of  drinking-cups  for  others,  and  of  theatrical 
performances  for  all. 

We  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  this  class  of  young 
people.  Shakespere  wrote  more  than  two  hundred 
years  ago,  that  it  was  "  better  to  endure  the  ills  we 
already  have,  than  fly  to  others  we  know  not  of." 
And  this  remark  holds  good  in  its  application  to  the 
subject  in  hand.  The  temptations  and  seductiveness 
of  city  life,  its  opportunities  for  self-destruction  by 
gambling,  drinking,  licentiousness,  and  a  thousand 
other  evils,  the  peculiar  isolation  and  lonesomeness  of 
living  and  moving  among  people  whose  names,  even, 
you  do  not  know,  is  not  half  as  pleasant  as  might  ap- 
pear at  first  thought.  No  one,  by  looking  merely  at 
the  outside,  can  begin  to  tell  the  amount  of  magnifi- 
cent misery  and  gilded  poverty  which  exist  within  city 
walls.  Besides,  there  is  as  much  drudgery  to  be  done 
in  the  city  as  in  the  country,  and,  if  anything,  even 
more.  There  is  also  as  much  hard,  steady  work.  It 
is  a  little  different  in  kind,  to  be  sure,  but  then  it  tires 
you  out  just  as  soon,  and  you  feel  just  as  weary  at 
night.  In  fact,  one  can  work  to  better  advantage  in 


FARMING.  53 

the  stillness  and  quietude,  and  amidst  the  unexcitable 
surroundings  of  country  life,  than  he  can  with  the 
noise  and  confusion  of  passing  multitudes  around 
him.  There  will  be  far  less  of  nerve-exhaustion  and 
consumption  of  vital  forces  at  the  old  home,  than  in 
any  great  city.  The  man  who  ought  to  be  the  hap- 
piest of  all  men,  is  he  who  has  a  good  farm,  free  from 
debt,  and  under  a  good  state  of  cultivation,  with  a 
cheerful,  loving  wife,  and  a  number  of  healthy,  bright, 
dutiful  children  around  him,  to  make  music  and  assist 
in  keeping  his  homestead. 

FARMING. 

The  only  really  prosperous  class,  as  a  whole,  is  the 
agricultural.  The  farmer  is  demonstrably  better  off, 
more  independent,  fares  better,  lodges  better,  and  gets 
a  better  return  for  his  labor  than  the  worker  in  the 
city.  The  country  must  be  fed,  and  the  farmers  feed 
it.  The  city  family  may  do  without  new  clothes,  and 
a  thousand  luxurious  appliances,  but  it  must  have 
bread  and  meat.  There  is  nothing  that  can  prevent 
the  steady  prosperity  of  the  American  farmer  but  the 
combinations  and  "corners"  of  the  middle-men,  that 
force  unnatural  conditions  upon  the  finances  and 
markets  of  the  country.  The  gains  of  the  husband- 
man are  slow,  but  sure.  Speculation  is  not  legitimate 
farm  business.  Farm  stock  cannot  be  watered  like 
railroad  stock,  and  made  to  expand  at  pleasure. 
Those  who  go  into  farming  expecting  to  make  sudden 
fortunes,  will  be  disappointed.  It  is  a  highway  to 
health  and  competence,  but  not  to  sudden  wealth  and 
luxury. 


54  FARMERS    RARELY    FAIL. 

Says  Alexander  Hyde,  himself  a  large  and  success- 
ful farmer  in  Massachusetts:  "While  we  concede  that 
the  profits  of  farming  are  slow  and  sure,  rather  than 
rapid  and  uncertain,  we  still  maintain  that  no  business 
pays  better  in  the  long  run  for  the  capital,  and  skill 
invested. 

FARMERS  RARELT  FAIL. 

"While  90  per  cent,  of  those  who  enter  upon  a  mer- 
cantile career  become  bankrupt,  it  is  an  anomaly  for 
a  farmer  to  ask  his  creditors  to  take  fifty  cents  on  a 
dollar.  We  never  hear  of  farmer  princes,  and  we 
cannot  point  you  to  millionaires  among  husbandmen, 
but  we  can  point  you  to  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands among  the  cultivators  of  the  soil  who  are  inde- 
pendent as  any  prince,  and  live  surrounded  with  the 
comforts,  if  not  the  luxuries  of  life,  all  brought  from 
the  bountiful  earth.  The  number  of  these  might  be 
increased  indefinitely,  if  more  intelligence,  and  more 
system  generally,  attended  the  labors  of  the  husband- 
man. In  this,  as  in  every  other  pursuit,  it  is  intelli- 
gent labor  that  commands  success.  Were  a  manu- 
facturer to  conduct  his  business  in  the  shiftless  man- 
ner in  which  many  farmers  direct  their  affairs,  he 
would  speedily  come  to  the  end  of  his  career." 

Agriculture  was  not  only  the  primeval  occupation 
of  man,  and  the  pursuit  which  the  majority  of  men  in 
all  ages  have  followed,  but  it  has  been,  is,  and  ever 
must  be,  the  mainspring  of  all  industry.  All  are 
dependent  upon  it  for  their  daily  sustenance.  "  The 
king  himself  is  served  by  the  field.  The  profit  of  the 
earth  is  for  all."  The  banker  and  the  beggar,  the 
prince  and  the  peasant,  are  alike  fed  from  the 


FARMERS    RARELY    FAIL.  55 

products  of  the  soil.  Nothing  can  supply  the  place 
of  these  products.  All  the  gold  of  California,  and  all 
the  Erie  railroad  stock,  multiplied  indefinitely,  cannot 
keep  the  soul  and  body  of  man  together.  No  matter 
what  business  we  pursue,  we  must,  like  the  fabled 
Antaeus,  draw  our  life  afresh  every  day  from  Mother 
Earth. 

Agriculture  not  only  gives  life  to  man  and  beast, 
but  is  the  foundation  of  all  other  business.  All  trades 
and  manufactures,  all  commerce,  in  short,  all  business, 
is  the  result  directly  or  indirectly  of  agriculture.  The 
thousands  of  wheels  which  are  revolving  in  the 
country  to-day,  whether  moved  by  water  or  steam, 
are  only  re-moulding  the  products  of  the  earth  into 
some  useful  form,  and  the  thousands  of  ships  which 
are  traversing  the  oceans  and  rivers  of  the  world,  are 
merely  transporting  these  products,  either  in  raw  or 
manufactured  state,  to  a  market.  The  merchants, 
whether  wholesale  or  retail,  are  the  mediums  of 
exchange  for  the  product  of  the  soil.  The  millions  of 
money  deposited  in  our  banks  represent  the  capital 
accumulated  from  this  produce.  Our  costly  and  com- 
modious public  buildings,  our  beautiful  private  res* 
idences,  our  splendid  turn-outs,  the  adornments  of 
fashion  ;  indeed,  all  the  representatives  of  value, — are 
ultimate  results  from  the  crops  of  the  earth.  A 
merchant  prince  once  said  to  us,  pointing  to  hi? 
splendid  mansion,  ''Every  stone  in  this  house  is  the 
result  of  the  prairie  soil  of  Illinois."  Were  the 
annual  harvests  of  the  earth  to  cease,  the  whirling 
spindles  and  flying  shuttles  of  our  manufactories 
would  also  cease,  our  ships  would  rot  by  the  wharves, 
and  our  banks  would  have  no  demand  for  discounts. 


56  ADAPTED    TO    ALL. 

When  the  labors  of  the  husbandman  are  rewarded 
with  bountiful  harvests,  the  spindles  multiply,  the 
ships  are  well  freighted,  and  money  is  current.  The 
resources  of  a  country  exist  mainly  in  the  soil. 

ADAPTED  TO  ALL. 

Moreover,  the  adaptation  of  agriculture  to  all  ranks 
and  conditions  of  society,  is  not  less  wonderful.  The 
king  himself,  without  any  loss  of  dignity,  can  be  a 
farmer.  Most  of  the  presidents  of  these  United 
States  have  been  farmers,  and  have  retired  from  their 
high  position  to  the  cultivation  of  their  broad  acres. 
We  should  be  sorry  to  see  a  president  reduced  to 
selling  lace  and  broadcloth,  but  of  Washington  as  a 
farmer,  we  are  almost  as  proud  as  of  Washington  the 
president.  Adams  on  his  farm  at  Quincy,  Jefferson 
on  his  estate  at  Monticello,  Jackson  at  the  Hermitage, 
were  just  as  dignified  as  when  in  the  presidential  chair. 
Van  Buren  prided  himself  as  much  upon  his  large 
patch  of  cabbages  at  Kinderhook  as  upon  his  sharp 
diplomacy  at  Washington.  Clay,  surrounded  by  his 
short-horns  at  Ashland,  was  as  much  a  nobleman  as 
when  gazed  upon  with  delight  by  his  compeers  in  the 
Senate  chamber.  The  massive  intellect  of  Webster 
was  as  conspicuous  in  the  guidance  of  his  farm  at 
Marshfield  as  when  he  guided  the  affairs  of  State. 

Prince  and  peasant  alike  feel  that  in  cultivating  the 
soil  they  are  fulfilling  the  mission  which  the  Creator 
gave  to  man  when  he  placed  him  in  the  garden  of 
Eden.  The  pleasure,  too,  which  the  cultivator  feels 
in  raising  his  own  fruits  and  flowers  is  very  analogous 
to  the  pleasure  of  the  Creator  when  he  looked  upon 


ADAPTED    TO    ALL.  57 

the  works  of  his  hands,  and  pronounced  them  good. 
We  doubt  not  there  is  pleasure  in  the  successful  pros- 
ecution of  any  branch  of  useful  industry.  The 
conversion  of  cotton  and  wool  into  fabrics  for  the 
protection  and  adornment  of  our  persons  is  a  species 
of  creation,  a  re-moulding  of  raw  material  into  forms  of 
beauty  and  utility,  which  must  give  the  manufacturer 
great  satisfaction ;  but  this  does  not  seem  so  much 
like  a  miracle  as  the  creation  of  new  life  from  inert 
matter ;  a  transformation  which  the  farmer  constantly 
sees  going  on  around  him,  and  in  the  conduct  of 
which  he  has  a  directing  agency.  In  the  case  of  the 
manufacturer,  no  new  life  is  the  result  of  his  skill  and 
labor.  Matter  is  transformed  and  is  made  useful  and 
beautiful,  but  cloth,  glass  and  paper  have  no  life. 

Not  so  with  the  products  of  the  farm.  Here  dead, 
inert  matter  is  transformed,  not  only  into  a  thing  of 
beauty  and  utility,  but  becomes  also  a  thing  of  life. 
An  apple  tree  lives  and  grows,  and  this  vegetable  life 
is  destined  to  enter  into  the  composition  of  a  still 
higher  organization  in  animal  life.  How  the  vile, 
offensive  matter  in  the  Compost  heap  is  converted  into 
the  luscious  and  fragrant  peach,  is  beyond  the  power 
of  human  ken  to  discern,  It  is  a  living,  perpetual 
miracle,  attesting  the  wisdom  and  power  of  the  great 
Creator;  but  the  farmer  acts  an  important  part  in  the 
transformation.  He  prepares  the  compost,  he  deter- 
mines whether  it  shall  fertilize  a  melon  or  a  cabbage, 
sows  the  seed,  and  cultivates  the  plant,  and  so  is  a  o> 
worker  with  the  Great  First  Cause,  and  shares  with 
him  the  pleasure  of  creation,  as  the  worker  in  no  other 
branch  of  industry  can. 

Many  a  professional  man,  with  his  head  aching  with 


5o  ADAPTED    TO    ALL. 

the  perplexities  of  his  business,  sighs  for  the  quiet, 
simple  pleasures  of  farm  life,  and  many  a  merchant 
constantly  on  the  qui  vive  to  outstrip  his  competitors 
in  trade,  and  fearing  commercial  revulsions  which  may 
strip  him  of  the  results  of  a  life  of  toil  and  enterprise, 
longs  for  a  home  in  the  country,  where  he  may  spend 
quietly  the  evening  of  his  days.  A  professional  man 
with  a  brilliant  genius,  fitting  him  "to  govern  men  and 
guide  the  State,"  and  shine  in  the  most  polished 
society,  recently  said  to  us,  "Can  I  manage  a  few  acres 
of  land?  I  long  to  be  the  owner  of  some  land,  and  a 
tiller  of  the  soil."  An  extensive  manufacturer,  who  in 
former  years  expatiated  on  the  pleasure  he  derived 
from  the  music  of  his  water-wheels,  and  the  satisfac- 
tion he  found  in  guiding  the  labors  of  a  multitude  of 
men,  and  seeing  the  town  prosperous  from  the  stimu- 
lus which  he  gave  to  business  generally,  has  lately 
turned  his  attention  to  agriculture,  and  confesses  that 
he  finds  in  his  new  pursuit  an  enjoyment  he  never 
experienced  before.  Living  in  the  open  air,  and 
exercising  his  muscles  more  vigorously,  and  his  brains 
more  gently,  dyspepsia,  whi^h  formerly  tormented 
him,  has  disappeared.  He  finds  the  sleep  of  a  labor- 
ing man  sweet,  whether  he  eats  little  or  much.  In 
draining  his  swamps  and  creating  fertile  land  from  a 
worthless  bog ;  in  tending  his  herds  and  studying  and 
developing  the  good  points  of  his  animals  ;  in  planting 
his  vines,  and  fruit  trees,  he  says  he  finds  a  pleasure 
which  the  old  mill  never  gave. 


59 


int  too  happy  if  th 

ciOMAS  MAY. 


was  man's  primeval  <occu- 
ae  first  farmer.     God 

of  Eden  "  • 
i 

li  vision 

Ca>  md  Abel  k 

which    i  th<r 

pre: 
camt 
patrian 
sisted  r 

that  th?  and 

every  man  ,  md 


60  IN    GREECE. 

moved  about  from  place  to  place  as  often  as  he 
pleased.  Egypt,  called  in  Scripture  the  "  Garden  of 
the  Lord,"  being  yearly  enriched  by  the  overflowing 
of  the  Nile,  early  attracted  the  attention  of  the  tillers 
of  the  soil.  This  country  furnished  a  refuge  from 
the  terrible  drouths  which  affected  the  pastures  of 
Western  Asia.  As  population  centered  on  the  banks 
of  the  Nile,  agriculture  rose  in  importance,  but  the 
progress  was  slow.  The  change  from  the  state  of 
nature,  and  from  a  wandering,  pastoral  life,  must  have 
been  the  work  of  ages.  The  nutritious  qualities  of 
the  cereals,  wheat,  barley,  etc.,  were  a  long  time  in 
being  discovered,  and,  when  known,  these  grains  were 
cultivated  in  the  rudest  manner.  They  were  sown  on 
the  rich  deposit  of  mud  made  by  the  annual  overflow 
of  the  river,  and  the  only  harrowing  they  received  was 
done  by  a  herd  of  swine  trampling  the  seed  into  the 
ground.  In  Egypt,  too,  animal  power  was  first  ap- 
plied to  agriculture,  but  the  plow,  as  delineated  among 
the  hieroglyphics  on  the  ancient  tombs,  was  an  instru- 
ment much  resembling  our  common  picks. 

IN  GREECE. 

From  Egypt,  agriculture  as  well  as  letters  migrated 
to  Greece.  Here,  in  a  soil  by  no  means  as  congenial 
as  that  of  Egypt,  agriculture  rose  to  a  degree  of  per- 
fection hitherto  unknown,  and  here  agricultural  litera- 
ture makes  its  first  appearance.  Hesiod,  who  lived  a 
thousand  years  before  Christ,  in  his  homely  poem, 
"  Works  and  Days,"  gives  a  detailed  description  of  a 
plow,  consisting  of  beam,  share,  and  handles.  It  must 
have  been  a  clumsy,  unwieldy  instrument,  for  he 


IN    ROME.  6 1 

recommends  that  the  plowman   be   forty   years    old 
before  he  undertakes  to  handle  it.      He  says  : 

"  Let  a  plowman  yeared  to  forty,  drive, 

And  see  the  careful  husbandman  fed 

With  plenteous  morsels,  and  of  wholesome  bread." 

There  is  no  question  but  that  in  the  palmy  days  of 
Greece,  agriculture  attained  a  high  degree  of  perfec- 
tion. Fine  breeds  of  cattle  and  horses  were  raised, 
and  extensive  importations  were  made  to  improve  the 
native  stock.  The  use  of  manures  was  also  well  un- 
derstood, which  Pliny  says  was  first  taught  by  the  old 
King  Augeas.  The  compost  heap  was  skilfully 
cared  for,  and  everything  added  to  it  which  could  con- 
tribute to  the  fertility  of  the  soil.  Drainage  was  un- 
derstood and  practiced,  and  the  swamps  and  marshes 
around  Sparta  were  drained,  and  rendered  tillable. 
Farm  tools  were  greatly  improved,  and  the  land  was 
thoroughly  plowed,  and  even  subsoiled  by  the  aid 
of  mules  and  oxen.  The  Greek  farmers  also  enjoyed 
the  luxury  of  fruits,  and  had  apples,  pears,  quinces, 
cherries,  plums,  peaches,  nectarines,  and  figs.  With 
good  culture  of  the  soil,  good  houses  became  also  a 
necessity,  and  rural  architecture  was  carried  to  a  high 
degree  of  perfection,  though  their  architects  devoted 
their  highest  skill  to  the  construction  of  temples  and 
public  buildings. 

IN  ROME. 

With  the  march  of  empire  westward,  the  march  of 
agriculture  took  its  way  from  Greece  to  Italy.  The 
culture  of  the  soil  was  a  fundamental  idea  in  the 


62  IN    ROME. 

Roman  civilization.  Seven  acres  of  land  were  allotted 
by  the  State  to  each  citizen,  and  in  the  early  years  of 
Rome  no  man  was  allowed  to  own  more  than  this. 
Trading  was  never  a  characteristic  of  the  Romans, 
and  a  merchant  was  ever  considered  by  them  inferior 
to  a  farmer.  As  the  territory  of  the  empire  was  ex- 
tended, the  right  of  freehold  to  each  individual  was 
increased  to  fifty  acres,  and  still  later  to  five  hundred  ; 
but,  as  in  Germany  every  man  was  once  expected  to 
learn  a  trade,  so  in  Rome  every  citizen  was  expected 
to  be  a  farmer ;  and  Pliny  ascribed  the  exceeding  fer- 
tility of  Italy  to  the  fact  that  the  "earth  took  delight 
in  being  tilled  by  the  hands  of  men  crowned  with 
laurels,  and  decorated  with  triumphal  honors." 

A  Roman  coveted,  next  to  the  honors  of  war,  the 
honor  of  being  a  good  husbandman.  Distinguished 
generals  and  private  solders,  statesmen  and  citizens, 
the  learned  and  the  unlettered,  alike  prided  themselves 
on  their  skill  in  agriculture.  Cato,  the  wise  censor, 
eloquent  orator  and  able  general,  wrote  a  treatise  on 
agriculture.  Cato's  summary  of  the  art  of  terraculture 
cannot  be  excelled  by  the  president  of  any  modern 
agricultural  college.  He  says  :  "The  first  thing  is  to 
plow  thoroughly,  the  second  to  plow,  the  third  to 
manure,  the  fourth  to  choose  good  seeds  and  plenty 
of  them,  the  fifth  to  root  out  all  weeds."  Neither 
Lord  Bacon  nor  Horace  Greeley  ever  uttered  more 
practical  truth  for  farmers  in  less  space.  They  are 
the  grand  principles  on  which  successful  agriculture 
ever  has  rested,  and  ever  will  rest.  Science  may 
explain  these  principles,  but  will  never  annul  them. 
Cato  not  only  understood  the  value  of  the  plow,  but 
insisted  upon  a  thorough  pulverization  of  the  soil  by 


IN    ROME.  63 

the  harrow.  He  also  knew  the  necessity  of  drainage, 
and  recommended  plowing  wet  land  so  as  to  throw  it 
into  ridges  with  deep  furrows  between  them  to  carry  off 
the  water. 

From  Columella's  account  of  a  Roman  farm  estab- 
lishment we  conclude  the  seven-acre  arrangement  was 
outgrown  in  his  day.  He  divides  the  farm  buildings 
into  three  classes,  the  mansion  house,  the  laborers' 
cottages,  and  the  barns  and  fruit  houses.  The 
details  of  these  buildings  show  an  age  of  great  wealth 
and  luxury  among  the  rural  classes.  The  mansion 
house  is  a  large,  square  building,  constructed  around 
an  inner  court  with  two  complete  suites  of  apartments, 
the  one  on  the  sunny  side  designed  for  winter,  the 
other  for  summer.  The  drawing-rooms,  dining-rooms, 
bathing-rooms,  library,  and  servants'  apartments,  are 
all  on  a  scale  of  magnificence  which  no  seven  or  fifty 
acres,  however  highly  cultivated,  could  support. 
Italy,  however,  had  far  greater  facilities  for  the 
advancement  of  agriculture  than  Greece.  Her  soil 
was  naturally  fertile,  agriculture  was  the  honorable 
employment,  and  she  had  all  the  experience  of  Egypt 
and  Greece  to  enlighten  her  in  the  art.  Still,  with  all 
these  advantages  there  were  many  other  things  in  the 
very  organization  of  Roman  society  which  prevented 
the  art  from  reaching  its  highest  development.  The 
farmer  received  little  aid  from  the  merchant.  Com- 
merce was  looked  upon  with  contempt,  and  the 
merchant  was  treated  as  belonging  to  an  inferior  caste. 
Mechanics  also  received  but  little  encouragement  from 
the  State;  the  mechanic  arts  consequently  languished, 
and  hence  there  was  little  co-operation  of  labor. 
Agriculture  cannot  rise  to  its  highest  perfection  with- 


64  IN    ENGLAND. 

out  the  aid  of  commerce,  manufactures,  and  the 
mechanic  arts.  They  support  each  other  as  do  the 
trees  of  the  forest,  and  any  jealousy  between  them  is 
foolish  and  suicidal. 

Another  impediment  to  the  advance  of  agriculture 
in  Italy,  was  the  want  of  general  intelligence.  The 
patricians  and  nobles  were  highly  educated,  but  the 
plebeians  were  kept  in  ignorance.  The  masses  toiled 
on  without  knowledge  or  hope,  serving  the  nobility 
and  amassing  property  for  the  few  to  whom  wealth 
brought  luxury  and  that  extreme  refinement  known 
by  the  ungallant  term,  "effeminacy."  The  tillage  of 
the  soil  was  left  more  and  more  in  the  hands  of  menial 
slaves  till  in  the  fifth  century,  when  the  vast  tide  of 
barbarians  from  the  North  swept  over  Italy,  and  in- 
deed, the  whole  of  Southern  Europe,  bringing  on  the 
long  night  of  the  Middle  Ages,  when  might  made  right, 
and  all  kinds  of  property,  and  especially  the  products 
of  the  farm,  as  most  exposed,  were  insecure.  This 
long  night  continued  with  scarcely  a  gleam  of  light 
from  the  fifth  to  the  sixteenth  century,  during  which 
time  agriculture  maintained  but  a  feeble  existence. 

IN  ENGLAND. 

We  pass  now  from  Italy  to  Britain,  and  from  the 
old  to  the  modern  type  of  agriculture.  The  Romans 
introduced  the  art  into  England  during  the  first  four 
centuries  of  the  Christian  era.  But  when  the  Roman 
power  fell,  and  the  Saxons  invaded  England,  a  great 
check  was  given  to  agriculture.  These  Saxons  were 
a  rude  people,  subsisting  mainly  by  the  chase  and  by 
keeping  large  numbers  of  cattle,  sheep,  and  swine. 


IN    ENGLAND.  65 

The  latter  were  fattened  in  the  forests  on  the  mast  of 
the  oak  and  beech,  as  but  small  quantities  of  grain 
were  raised,  not  enough  to  furnish  a  decent  supply  of 
breadstuffs.  The  character  of  the  food  is  said  by 
physiologists  to  determine  somewhat  the  character  of 
the  man  and  the  nation.  We  are  inclined  to  think 
there  is  a  basis  of  truth  in  this,  but  whether  true  or 
not  we  cannot  deny  that  our  Saxon  ancestors  were 
wild  and  semi-savage,  too  much  like  the  beasts  they 
hunted,  and  on  whose  flesh  they  mainly  subsisted. 
No  hoed  crops  and  no  edible  vegetables  were  raised, 
and  as  late  as  the  time  of  Henry  the  Vlllth,  salad 
was  brought  over  from  Holland  to  supply  the  table  of 
Queen  Catharine,  who  had  been  accustomed  in  her 
early  childhood  to  a  more  civilized  diet  than  England 
afforded.  Neither  Indian  corn,  nor  potatoes,  nor 
squashes,  nor  carrots,  nor  cabbages,  nor  turnips  were 
known  in  England  till  after  the  beginning  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  The  suffering  among  the  people  was 
often  intense.  The  shelters  for  man  and  beast  were 
of  the  rudest  kind,  and  it  was  estimated  that  one-fifth 
of  the  cattle  perished  each  winter  for  the  want  of 
proper  food  and  care. 

The  condition  of  the  peasantry  was  miserable  in 
the  extreme.  They  seemingly  had  no  rights  which 
the  landlords  were  bound  to  respect.  If  an  estate  was 
sold,  the  tenants  were  obliged  to  give  up  all,  even  their 
standing  crops,  without  compensation.  With  such  an 
uncertain  tenure  of  property,  agriculture  could  not 
be  expected  to  flourish.  So  late  as  1745,  Marshal 
Noailles  remarked  to  the  king  of  France,  "The 
misery  of  the  mass  of  the  people  is  indescribable  ; " 
and  the  remark  was  as  applicable  to  England  as  to 


66  IN    ENGLAND. 

France.  The  feudal  system  gave  some  little  protec- 
tion to  persons  and  property  against  petty  feuds  and 
depredations  among  neighbors,  but  it  was  too  much 
like  the  protection  that  cats  give  to  mice.  The  igno- 
rant and  tyrannical  lords  protected  the  peasantry 
much  as  they  protected  their  cattle  and  horses,  and 
for  the  same  selfish  reasons. 

The  darkness  of  the  Middle  Ages  retired  slowly. 
It  was  left  to  Jethro  Tull,  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  to  make  the  first  stride  in  both 
the  science  and  art  of  agriculture.  Tull  investigated 
the  principles  of  fertility,  and  invented  a  horse-hoe 
and  the  grain-drill  to  carry  out  his  idea  of  thorough 
tillage.  He  also  invented  the  threshing  machine,  but 
the  ignorant  English  landholders  declared  it  to  be  an 
" engine  of  the  devil,"  and  continued  the  use  of  the, 
flail  and  fan  until  the  commencement  of  the  present 
century.  If  Tull  had  not  made  the  great  mistake  of 
rejecting  the  aid  of  manure,  his  theory  of  the  thorough 
pulverization  of  the  soil,  and  his  improved  agricultural 
implements,  would  have  been  adopted  at  a  much 
earlier  day.  What  Tull  did  for  the  benefit  of  the 
culture  of  the  soil,  Bakewell  did  in  the  improvement 
of  the  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep.  He  studied  the  laws 
of  breeding  patiently  and  intelligently,  and  laid  the 
foundation  for  the  present  thoroughbreds  of  England, 
which  confessedly  stand  at  the  head  of  the  herds  and 
flocks  of  the  world,  though  we  expect  to  see  still 
better  in  America. 

To  Arthur  Young,  who  died  in  1820,  the  world  is 
indebted  more  than  to  any  other  man  for  the  advance- 
ment of  the  modern  science  of  agriculture.  He  visited 
different  parts  of  Europe  to  study  his  favorite  art, 


IN    ENGLAND.  67 

and  made  many  experiments  to  ascertain  the  causes 
of  fertility.  To  him  we  are  indebted  for  ascertaining 
the  value  of  ammonia,  which,  previous  to  his  time, 
had  been  thought  to  be  injurious  to  vegetation. 
Young  tried  it  on  various  soils  and  various  crops, 
and  found  it  in  every  trial  to  succeed.  We  now  look 
upon  ammonia  as  the  test  of  value  for  most  manures. 
Young  also  experimented  with  summer  fallows,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  covering  the  soil  is  more 
beneficial  than  naked  fallow,  and  that  a  rotation  of 
crops  is  all  the  rest  the  land  needs — a  conclusion 
which  has  added  millions  to  the  wealth  of  England 
and  America.  Young  drew  from  his  experiments  the 
important  principle  that  nitrogenous  manures  increase 
the  power  of  plants  to  avail  themselves  of  the  mineral 
resources  of  the  soil,  thus  establishing  the  necessity 
for  the  use  of  both  these  classes  of  manure — a  princi- 
ple fully  corroborated  by  all  experimenters  since  his 
day.  By  him,  also,  salt  was  first  introduced  into 
England  as  a  manure.  Young  embodied  the  results 
of  his  investigations  in  a  comprehensive  work,  called 
the  " Annals  of  Agriculture." 

In  1793,  at  the  request  of  the  English  Board  of 
Agriculture,  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  the  first  chemist  of 
his  age,  was  induced  to  investigate  the  elements  of 
soil  and  manure,  and  his  lectures  mark  an  important 
era  in  the  history  of  the  art.  They  were  published 
in  1813,  under  the  title,  "  Elements  of  Agriculture." 
In  this  work,  Davy  explains  the  construction  of  plants, 
gives  the  analyses  of  soils  and  manures,  and  their 
adaptation  to  each  other.  The  zeal  of  Davy  for  agri- 
culture led  him  to  a  practical  testing  of  his  theories 
in  the  field.  We  find  him  in  1805  experimenting 


68  IN    AMERICA. 

with  guano,  which  Baron  Humboldt  had  discovered 
in  the  islands  of  the  Pacific.  He  first  recommended 
the  use  of  bones  for  manure,  which  have  since  played 
so  important  a  part  in  English  agriculture.  What 
Davy  and  Johnston  did  for  agriculture  in  England, 
Liebig  has  done  in  Germany. 

IN  AMERICA. 

While  our  own  country  has  been  slow  in  adopting 
all  the  theories  of  the  European  savans,  yet  their 
works  have  been  extensively  circulated,  and  the  seed 
sown  by  them  has  borne  legitimate  and  satisfactory 
fruit.  In  the  department  of  farm  implements  we  are 
leading  the  world.  In  cattle  and  sheep  breeding  we 
also  compare  favorably  with  the  Old  World.  But 
still  the  capacities  of  American  agriculture,  as  a  whole, 
have  only  begun  to  be  developed,  and  there  never  was 
a  time  when,  and  never  a  country  where,  husbandry 
could  be  carried  on  to  such  advantage  as  in  this 
country.  Farmers  have  only  to  be  true  to  themselves 
and  their  opportunities,  to  be  esteemed  as  the  real 
noblemen  of  the  land. 

So  much  for  the  pleasure,  dignity,  and  profitable- 
ness of  a  country  life,  and  the  history  of  agricultural 
pursuits.  These,  however,  are  the  sober  and  prosaic 
aspects  of  the  subject.  Let  us  now  glance  at  its 
poetical  side.  In  the  Odyssey  of  Homer,  written  in 
the  noontide  vigor  of  Grecian  life,  we  find  the  follow- 
ing description  of  the  garden  of  Alcinous : 

"  Four  acres  was  the  allotted  space  of  ground, 
Fenced  with  a  green  enclosure  all  around; 


IN    AMERICA.  69 

Tall  thriving  trees  confined  the  fruitful  mold, 
The  reddening  apple  ripens  here  to  gold. 
Here  the  blue  fig  with  luscious  juice  o'erflows, 
With  deeper  red  the  full  pomegranate  glows; 
The  branch  here  bends  beneath  the  weighty  pear, 
And  verdant  olives  flourish  round  the  year. 
The  balmy  spirit  of  the  western  gale 
Eternal  breathes  on  fruits  untaught  to  fail ; 
Each  dropping  pear  a  following  pear  supplies, 
On  apples,  apples,  figs  on  figs  arise. 
The  same  mild  season  gives  the  bloom  to  blow, 
The  buds  to  harden,  and  the  fruits  to  grow. 
Here  ordered  vines  in  equal  ranks  appear, 
With  all  th'  united  labors  of  the  year. 
Some  to  unload  the  fertile  branches  run, 
Some  dry  the  blackening  clusters  in  the  sun; 
Others  to  tread  the  liquid  harvest  join ; 
The  groaning  presses  foam  with  floods  of  wine. 
Here  are  the  vines  in  early  flowers  descried, 
Here  grapes  discolored  on  the  sunny  side, 
And  there  in  Autumn's  richest  purple  dyed." 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  a  courtier  and  warrior  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  time,  writes  : 

"Abused  mortals!  did  you  know 
Where  joy,  heart's-ease,  and  comforts  grow, 
You'd  scorn  proud  towers, 
And  seek  them  in  rural  bowers." 

John  Gay,  another  English  poet,  writing  of  "  Rural 
Sports/'  says : 

"  O  happy  shepherds  who,  secure  from  fear, 
On  open  downs  preserve  their  fleecy  care! 
Whose  spacious  barns  groan  with  increasing  store, 
And  whirling  flails  disjoint  the  cracking  floor." 


7O  IN    AMERICA. 

And  again  in  the  same  poem  he  adds : 

«  What  happiness  the  rural  maid  attends, 
In  cheerful  labor  while  each  day  she  spends! 
She  gratefully  receives  what  Heaven  hath  sent, 
And,  rich  in  poverty,  enjoys  content. 
She  never  loses  life  in  thoughtless  ease, 
Nor  on  the  velvet  couch  invites  disease ; 
Her  homespun  dress  in  simple  neatness  lies, 
And  for  no  glaring  gaudy  trappings  sighs. 
No  midnight  masquerade  her  beauty  wears, 
And  health,  not  paint,  the  fading  bloom  repairs." 

Goldsmith,  in  the  "  Deserted  Village,"  thus  paints 
a  picture  of  country  life  : 

"  Sweet  was  the  sound  when  oft  at  evening's  close, 
Up  yonder  hill  the  village  murmur  rose; 
There,  as  I  passed  with  careless  steps  and  slow, 
The  mingled  notes  came  softened  from  below; 
The  swain  responsive  as  the  milkmaid  sung, 
The  sober  herd  that  lowed  to  meet  their  young, 
The  noisy  geese  that  gabbled  o'er  the  pool, 
The  playful  children  just  let  loose  from  school ; 
The  watch-dog's  voice  that  bayed  the  gentle  wind, 
And  the  loud  laugh  that  spoke  the  vacant  mind : 
These  all  in  sweet  confusion  sought  the  shade, 
And  rilled  each  pause  the  nightingale  had  made." 

James  Beattie,  the  Scottish  minstrel,  asks: 

«c  How  canst  thou  renounce  the  boundless  store 
Of  charms  which  nature  to  her  votary  yields! 
The  warbling  woodland,  the  resounding  shore, 
The  pomp  of  groves,  the  garniture  of  fields; 
All  that  the  genial  ray  of  morning  gilds, 
And  all  that  echoes  to  the  song  of  even ; 


IN    AMERICA.  71 

All  that  the  mountain's  sheltering  bosom  shields, 

And  all  the  dread  magnificence  of  heaven — 

O  how  canst  these  renounce,  and  hope  to  be  forgiven ! " 

Coming  to  our  own  country,  listen  to  what  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson  says  : 

"  O  when  I  am  safe  in  my  sylvan  home, 
I  mock  at  the  pride  of  Greece  and  Rome ; 
And  when  I  am  stretched  beneath  the  pines, 
When  the  evening  star  so  holy  shines, 
I  laugh  at  the  lore  and  pride  of  man, 
At  the  sophist  schools  and  the  learned  clan; 
For  what  are  they  all,  in  their  high  conceit, 
When  man  in  the  bush  with  God  may  meet?" 

On  the  other  hand,  Cowper,  writing  of  city  life  and 
pleasures,  says  : 

"  Suburban  villas,  highway-side  retreats, 
That  dread  the  encroachment  of  growing  streets, 
Tight  boxes,  neatly  sashed,  and  all  in  a  blaze 
With  a  July's  sun  collected  rays, 
Delight  the  city  man,  who,  gasping  there, 
Breathes  clouds  of  dust,  and  calls  it  country  air." 


FARM    AND    CITY    LIFE. 


FARM  AND   CITY  LIFE. 


"  The  city  merchant  has  his  house  in  town, 
But  a  country-seat  near  Banstead  Down; 
From  one  he  dates  his  foreign  letters, 
Sends  out  his  goods,  and  duns  his  debtors; 
In  the  other,  during  hours  of  leisure, 
He  smokes  his  pipe  and  takes  his  pleasure." 


[E  say  to  the  reader,  whether  young  man 
or  young  lady,  or  middle-aged  man  with- 
out a  family,  go  where  you  are  sure  you 
can  do  the  best,  be  it  in  city,  in  town,  or 
in  the  country ;  but  be  very  sure  that 
you  will  better  yourself  materially,  before 
leaving  a  good,  comfortable  place  in  the  country 
to  go  to  the  city.  The  chances  are  ten  to  one  that 
before  a  year  passes  over  your  head,  you  will  wish 
yourself  back  again  in  the  old  place.  If  a  man  has 
plenty  of  money  to  spend  or  to  invest  in  business,  he 
can  get  along  in  a  city  very  nicely  while  his  money 
lasts;  but  the  moment  that  is  gone,  he  might  as  well 
be  in  a  prison,  or  in  a  desert,  as  in  a  city.  As  financial 
and  business  matters  go  in  times  of  depression,  the 
city  is  the  last  place  on  earth  for  a  poor  man  with  a 
family,  or  even  for  a  single  person,  unless  they  know 
just  what  they  are  to  do  before  they  go  there,  and 


FARM    AND    CITY    LIFE.  73 

unless  they  are  pretty  certain  they  will  succeed  in 
their  new  work  before  beginning  it. 

To  go  to  a  city  with  a  vague  idea  or  hope  of  get- 
ting into  some  kind  of  profitable  business,  or  falling 
in  with  some  grand  chance  to  make  money,  is  the 
greatest  folly  imaginable.  Such  chances  rarely  occur 
to  begin  with,  and  when  found,  a  thousand  men  on 
the  ground,  waiting  and  watching,  stand  ready  to 
seize  upon  it  before  the  opportunity  is  an  hour  old. 
As  a  rule,  there  is  no  greater  slave  on  earth  than  the 
average  city  clerk,  bookkeeper,  apprentice,  or  work- 
man of  any  kind.  Late  and  early  hours,  steady  ap- 
plication, conformity  to  strict  rules,  and  a  constant 
liability  to  discharge  for  the  smallest  offences,  are  a 
permanent  quantity  in  the  life  of  every  working  man 
or  working  woman  in  the  city.  Nor  is  it  much  better 
for  the  capitalist,  if  he  be  not  well  posted  in  all  the  games 
of  sharpers  and  confidence  men  and  rascals  of  every 
kind,  and  if  he  be  not  very  sharp  and  keen  himself; 
for  his  money  will  be  cheated  out  of  him,  or  he  will 
lose  it  in  unlucky  speculation,  before  he  is  aware  of  it. 
The  history  of  all  kinds  of  business  or  of  speculative 
ventures  in  any  city  would  not  offer  any  encourage- 
ment to  a  man  of  means  to  try  his  hand  in  such  un- 
certain enterprises;  for  where  one  succeeds,  a  dozen 
or  twenty  fail. 

To  be  sure,  there  is  more  to  be  seen  and  heard  in  a 
city  than  in  the  country,  there  is  also  much  more  life  and 
bustle,  noise  and  clatter.  The  shop  windows  display 
elegant  goods  of  every  description,  but  there  is  little 
satisfaction  to  sensible  minds  in  seeing  and  wanting, 
and  not  being  able  to  purchase.  Again,  there  is 
always  a  higher  and  more  aristocratic  class  of  people 


74 


FARM    AND    CITY    LIFE. 


living  in  cities,  generally  speaking,  than  in  small 
places,  but  poor  people,  or  people  below  a  certain 
social  level,  cannot  associate  with  them,  so  their 
superior  elegance  does  one  no  good  unless  he  or  she 
is  within  the  ring. 

If  a  man  commences  life  in  a  small  place  with 
limited  opportunities  for  expansion,  fairly  and  honestly 
outgrows  his  straitened  quarters,  and,  like  Alex- 
ander the  Great,  sighs  for  more  worlds  to  conquer,  in 
such  a  case,  if  he  takes  pains  beforehand  to  inquire 
thoroughly  into  the  difficulties  likely  to  be  en- 
countered in  a  new  situation,  and  if  he  feels  compe- 
tent to  grapple  with  them  and  conquer  them,  let  him 
come  to  a  city  and  try  his  hand  in  a  new  and  larger 
sphere.  But  other  things  being  equal,  if  a  man  is 
doing  well,  and  is  comfortably  situated  in  the  country, 
he  had  by  all  means  better  let  well  enough  alone,  than 
venture  out  on  an  unknown  and  untried  city  sea, 
where  financial  and  moral  shipwrecks  abound  on  every 
hand,  and  where  possible  disasters  multiply  and 
thicken  in  about  an  equal  ratio  with  the  increase  of 
population.  Time  was,  when  young  business  men 
could  go  into  cities  and  do  well,  but  that  time  has  gone 
by  and  will  probably  never  return,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  the  cities  are  overcrowded  already,  and 
there  is  no  prospect  of  their  population  growing 
less. 

Beware,  then,  of  that  foolish  fascination  which  the 
idea  of  living  in  the  city  is  liable  to  exercise  over 
every  young  heart  and  mind.  There  is  a  class  of 
people  who  had  rather  die  by  inches  in  a  city  than 
live  well  in  the  country,  but  such  people  are  so  shallow 
and  weak-minded  that  it  makes  but  little  difference 


BOOKS.  75 

where  they  live  or  die.  They  are  simply  human 
moths  fluttering  round  the  great  city  candle.  With 
proper  care  and  effort,  a  country  life  can  be  made  just 
as  enjoyable  as  a  life  in  the  city,  and  much  more 
healthy  and  profitable. 

BOOKS. 

How  can  it  be  done  ?  By  filling  the  farmhouses 
with  books.  Establish  central  reading  rooms,  or 
neighborhood  clubs.  Encourage  the  social  meetings 
of  the  young.  Have  concerts,  lectures,  amateur 
dramatic  associations.  Establish  a  bright,  active 
social  life,  that  shall  give  some  significance  to  labor. 
Above  all,  build,  as  far  as  possible,  in  villages.  It  is 
better  to  go  a  mile  to  one's  daily  labor  than  to  place 
one's  self  a  mile  away  from  a  neighbor.  The  isola- 
tion of  American  farm-life  is  the  great  curse  of  that 
life.  The  towns  of  Hadley,  Northfield,  Hatfield  and 
Deerfield,  on  the  Connecticut  River,  to  this  day 
remain  villages  of  agriculturists.  Europe,  for  many 
centuries,  was  cultivated  by  people  who  lived  in 
villages.  And  this  is  the  way  in  which  all  farmers 
should  live.  Settle  in  colonies,  instead  of  singly, 
whenever  feasible  or  possible. 


76  CONCENTRATION    OF    MIND    AND    POWER. 


CONCENTRATION   OF  MIND   AND 
POWER. 


"  Men  make  resolves,  and  pass  into  decrees 
The  motions  of  the  mind." 


|HE  man  who  attempts  to  know  or  do  every- 
thing, will  succeed  in  really  knowing  or 
accomplishing  but  very  little.  Sidney 
Smith  said  :  "  Very  often  the  modern  pre- 
cept of  education  is,  Be  ignorant  of 
nothing.  But  my  advice  is,  have  the  courage  to  be 
ignorant  of  a  great  number  of  things,  that  you  may 
avoid  the  calamity  of  being  ignorant  of  all  things." 

It  is  generally  thought  that  when  a  man  is  said  to 
be  dissipated  in  his  habits,  he  must  be  a  drinking  man, 
a  gambler,  or  licentious,  or  all  three  ;  but  dissipation 
is  of  two  kinds — coarse  and  refined.  A  man  can  dis- 
sipate or  scatter  all  of  his  mental  energies  and  physical 
power,  by  indulging  in  too  many  respectable  diver- 
sions, as  easily  as  in  habits  of  a  viler  nature.  Property 
and  its  cares  make  some  men  dissipated  ;  too  many 
friends  make  others.  The  exactions  of  "  society,"  the 
balls,  parties,  receptions,  and  various  entertainments 
constantly  being  given  and  attended  by  the  beau 
monde,  constitute  a  most  wasting  species  of  dissipa- 


ONE   CAUSE    OF    FAILURE.  77 

tion.  Others,  again,  fritter  away  all  their  time  and 
strength  in  political  agitations,  or  in  controversies  and 
gossip  ;  others  in  idling  with  music  or  some  other  one 
of  the  fine  arts ;  others  in  feasting  or  fasting,  as  their 
dispositions  and  feelings  incline.  But  the  man  of 
concentration  of  purpose  is  never  a  dissipated  man  in 
any  sense,  good  or  bad.  He  has  no  time  to  devote 
to  useless  trifling  of  any  kind,  but  puts  in  as  many 
strokes  of  faithful  work  as  possible  toward  the 
attainment  of  some  definite  good. 

ONE  CAUSE   OF  FAILURE. 

Thousands  of  men  have  failed  in  life  by  dabbling 
in  too  many  things.  In  ancient  times,  great  men  and 
scholars  aspired  to  know  everything,  but  the  day  of 
universal  knowledge  and  scholarship  is  past.  The 
range  of  human  inquiry  has  now  extended  to  a  degree 
when  the  true  measure  of  a  man's  learning  will  be  the 
amount  of  his  voluntary  ignorance,  or  the  number  of 
studies  which  he  chooses  to  let  alone.  And  as  with 
knowledge,  so  with  work.  Every  man  who  means  to 
be  successful,  must  single  out,  from  a  vast  number  of 
possible  employments,  some  specialty,  and  to  that  devote 
himself  thoroughly.  It  will,  in  fact,  puzzle  the  wisest 
and  strongest  of  men  now  to  keep  fairly  abreast  of 
any  single  branch  of  knowledge,  or  of  industrial  enter- 
prise. "It  is  said  that  a  Yankee  can  splice  a  rope  in 
many  different  ways  ;  an  English  sailor  knows  but 
one  mode,  but  that  mode  is  the  best.  The  one  thing 
which  an  Englishman  detests  with  his  whole  soul  is  a 
Jack-of-all-trades,  the  miscellaneous  man,  who  knows  a 
little  of  everything.  England  is  not  a  country  for 


78  ONE    CAUSE    OF    FAILURE. 

average  men  ;  every  profession  is  overstocked,  and 
the  only  chance  of  success  is  for  the  man  of  signal 
ability  and  address  to  climb  to  a  lofty  position  over 
the  heads  of  a  hundred  others.  America,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  full  of  persons  who  can  do  many  things, 
but  who  do  no  one  thing  well.  The  secret  of  their 
failure  is  mental  dissipation — the  squandering  of  their 
energies  upon  a  distracting  variety  of  objects,  instead 
of  condensing  them  upon  one."  And  what  is  true  of 
England  in  respect  to  numbers,  is  true  of  all  European 
countries  ;  hence,  the  best  workmen  in  almost  every 
department  of  industry  in  this  country  are  largely 
foreigners,  who,  in  the  Old  World,  devoted  the  early 
part  of  their  lives  to  the  learning  of  some  one  trade 
or  profession,  and  then  emigrated  to  this  country, 
bringing  their  superior  attainment  in  workmanship 
with  them. 

There  are  very  few  universal  geniuses  in  the  world. 
Said  a  learned  American  chemist,  "My  friend  laughs 
at  me  because  I  have  but  one  idea,  but  I  have  learned 
that  if  I  wish  ever  to  make  a  breach  in  a  wall,  I  must 
play  my  guns  continually  upon  one  point."  And 
such  gunnery  is  usually  successful.  Said  Charles 
Dickens,  "Whatever  I  have  tried  to  do  in  life,  I  have 
tried  with  all  my  heart  to  do  well.  What  I  have 
devoted  myself  to,  I  have  devoted  myself  to,  com- 
pletely." This  he  found  to  be  a  golden  rule.  Says 
Dr.  Mathews:  "Many  a  person  misses  of  being  a 
great  man  by  splitting  into  two  middling  ones.  The 
highest  ability  will  accomplish  but  little,  if  scattered 
on  a  multiplicity  of  objects;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  one  has  but  a  thimbleful  of  brains,  and  concentrates 
them  all  upon  the  thing  he  has  in  hand,  he  may  achieve 


ONE    CAUSE   OF    FAILURE.  79 

miracles.     Momentum  in  physics,  properly  directed, 
will  drive  a  tallow  candle  through  an  inch  board." 

Once  in  a  great  while  a  man  appears  in  history  like 
Cicero,  or  Bacon,  or  Dante,  or  Leonardo  da  Vinci, 
who  is  a  real  prodigy  of  genius,  and  who,  like  these, 
acquires  an  immense  amount  of  learning,  and  does  a 
great  many  different  kinds  of  work,  and  does  them 
all  well;  but  the  very  rareness  of  such  men  proves 
the  contrary  condition  to  be  the  rule.  Da  Vinci,  the 
last-named  of  the  above  four,  was  a  Florentine  painter 
and  sculptor,  living  from  1452  to  1519.  Besides  his 
devotion  to  painting  and  sculpture,  he  excelled  in 
architecture  (as  did  Michael  Angelo,  his  cotempo- 
rary),  engineering  and  mechanics  generally,  botany, 
anatomy,  mathematics  and  astronomy.  He  was  also 
a  poet  and  an  admirable  performer  on  the  lyre.  His 
greatest  work  in  painting,  by  which  he  became  most 
famous,  was  "The  Last  Supper,"  originally  executed 
in  oil  on  the  wall  of  a  Dominican  convent,  and  con- 
sidered at.  the  time  to  be  the  best  work  of  art 
ever  produced.  Gladstone,  when  Prime  Minister  of 
England,  not  only  attended  to  the  multiplied  affairs 
of  State,  but  at  the  same  time  made  experiments  with 
Sykes'  hydrometer  (an  instrument  for  determining  the 
specific  gravity  of  liquids),  answered  letters  innumer- 
able, conducted  a.  correspondence  with  half  a  dozen 
Greek  scholars  concerning  controverted  points  in 
Homer,  translated  scores  of  English  hymns  into 
Latin  verse,  and  wrote  occasional  pamphlets  of  forty 
pages  or  so,  on  some  legal  point.  But  this  very  dis- 
traction of  thought,  this  want  of  concentration  in 
effort,  was  the  precise  cause  of  his  failure  as  a  party 
leader,  and  gave  occasion  for  Disraeli,  his  rival  and 


8o 


SINGLENESS    OF    AIM. 


political  opponent,  to  take  advantage  of  his  weakness, 
oust  him  from  his  exalted  seat,  and  sit  down  there 
himself  in  triumph  ! 

SINGLENESS  OF  AIM. 

But  with  these  few  exceptions,  made  by  minds 
essentially  creative  and  phenomenally  great,  most  of 
the  great  historic  names  are  identified  with  some 
single  achievement  to  which  they  gave  their  lives. 
When  you  read  of  James  Watt,  his  name  stands 
associated  with  improvements  in  the  steam-engine. 
This  was  his  great  and  only  lifework.  Sir  Richard 
Arkwright's  work  was  the  invention  and  improve- 
ment of  machinery  for  spinning  cotton.  Dr.  Wm. 
Harvey  is  distinguished  for  the  discovery  of  the  cir- 
culation of  the  blood,  and  for  that  alone.  Professor 
Morse  only  succeeded  in  working  out  one  thing,  and 
that  the  electric  telegraph.  Count  Cavour  gave  his 
life  to  the  unification  of  his  beloved  country,  Italy, 
and  Bismarck  has  accomplished  the  same  political 
results  for  Germany.  Commodore  Macdonough,  the 
hero  of  Lake  Champlain,  won  his  memorable  naval 
victory  by  pointing  all  his  guns  at  the  "  big  ship  "  of 
the  enemy,  until  her  fire  was  silenced.  Rufus  Choate, 
the  great  lawyer,  was  wont  to  so  concentrate  his 
energies  upon  a  case  in  hand,  after  once  espousing  it, 
that  he  could  not  sleep.  His  mind,  as  he  himself 
said,  took  up  the  cause  involved  like  a  great  ship,  and 
bore  it  on  night  and  day  till  a  verdict  was  reached  ; 
and  he  was  generally  so  exhausted  that  several  days 
elapsed  before  he  dared  to  take  up  a  new  case. 

Another  marvelous  career  was  that  of  William  Pitt 
the  celebrated  English  statesmen.  "If  there  was  an;' 


SINGLENESS    OF    AIM.  8 1 

thing  divine  in  this  man,  whom  his  cotemporaries 
called  a  heaven-born  statesman,  it  was  the  marvelous 
gift  of  concentrating  his  powers.  Whatever  he  did  he 
did  with  all  his  might.  Ever  master  of  himself,  he  con- 
verged all  the  rays  of  his  mind,  as  into  a  focus,  upon 
the  object  in  hand,  worked  like  a  horse,  and  did 
nothing  by  halves.  Hence  with  him  there  was  no 
half  vision,  no  sleepy  eyes,  no  dawning  sense.  All 
his  life  he  had  his  wits  about  him  so  intensely  directed 
to  the  point  required,  that,  it  is  said,  he  seemed  never 
to  learn,  but  only  to  recollect.  He  gave  men  an 
answer  before  they  knew  there  was  a  riddle;  he  had 
formed  a  decision  before  they  had  heard  of  a  diffi- 
culty. His  lightning  had  struck  and  done  its  work, 
before  they  had  heard  the  thunder-clap  which  an- 
nounced it.  Is  it  strange  that  such  a  man  went 
straightway  from  college  into  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  in  two  years  to  the  Prime  Ministership  of  Great 
Britain, — -reigned  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
virtual  king, — and  carried  his  measures  in  spite  of  the 
opposition  of  some  of  the  greatest  men  England  ever 
produced  ?  The  simple  secret  of  his  success  was,  that 
his  whole  soul  was  swallowed  up  in  the  one  passion 
for  political  power.  So  we  see  him  neglecting  every- 
thing else, — careless  of  friends,  careless  of  expendi- 
tures, so  that  with  an  income  of  fifty  thousand  dollars 
yearly,  and  no  family,  he  died  hopelessly  in  debt; 
tearing  up  by  the  roots  from  his  heart  a  love  most 
deep  and  tender,  because  it  ran  counter  to  his 
ambition  ;  totally  indifferent  to  posthumous  fame,  so 
that  he  did  not  take  the  pains  to  transmit  to  posterity 
a  single  one  of  his  speeches ;  utterly  insensible  to  the 
claims  of  art,  literature,  and  belles-lettres  ;  living  and 


82  POWER    OF    ATTENTION. 

working  terribly  for  tKe  one  sole  purpose  of  wielding 
the  governing  power  of  the  nation." 

One  of  Ignatius  Loyola's  maxims  was,  "He  who 
does  well  one  work  at  a  time,  does  more  than  all." 
By  spreading  our  efforts  over  too  large  a  surface  we 
inevitably  weaken  our  force,  hinder  our  progress,  and 
acquire  a  habit  of  fitfulness  and  ineffective  working. 
Whatever  a  youth  undertakes  to  learn,  he  should  not 
be  suffered  to  leave  until  he  can  reach  his  arms 
round  it  and  clench  his  hands  on  the  other  side. 
Thus  he  will  learn  the  habit  of  thoroughness.  Lord 
St.  Leonards  once  communicated  to  Sir  Powell  Bux- 
ton  the  mode  in  which  he  had  conducted  his  studies, 
and  thus  explained  the  secret  of  his  success.  "I 
resolved,"  said  he,  "when  beginning  to  read  law,  to 
make  everything  I  acquired  perfectly  my  own,  and 
never  to  go  to  a  second  thing  till  I  had  entirely  ac- 
complished the  first.  Many  of  my  competitors  read 
as  much  in  a  day  as  I  read  in  a  week  ;  but,  at  the  end 
of  twelve  months,  my  knowledge  was  as  fresh  as  the 
day  it  was  acquired,  while  theirs  had  glided  away 
from  recollection."  Sir  E.  B.  Lytton,  once  explain- 
ing how  it  was  that,  whilst  so  fully  engaged  in  active 
life,  he  had  written  so  many  books,  observed,  "I  con- 
trived to  do  so  much  by  never  doing  too  much  at  a 
time.  As  a  general  rule,  I  have  devoted  to  study  not 
more  than  three  hours  a  day;  and,  when  Parliament  is 
sitting,  not  always  that.  But,  during  those  hours,  I 
have  given  my  whole  attention  to  what  I  was  about." 

POWER   OF  ATTENTION. 

It  is  not  the  quantity  of  study  that  one  gets 
through  that  makes  a  wise  man,  but  the  appositeness 


POWER   OF    ATTENTION.  83 

of  the  study  to  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  pursued  ; 
the  concentration  of  mind,  for  the  time  being,  upon 
the  subject  under  consideration,  and  the  habitual 
discipline  by  which  the  whole  system  of  mental 
application  is  regulated.  Abernethy  was  even  of 
opinion  that  there  was  a  point  of  saturation  in  his 
own  mind,  and  that  if  he  took  into  it  something  more 
than  it  could  hold,  it  only  had  the  effect  of  pushing 
something  else  out.  And  every  brain-worker  knows 
by  experience  that  this  opinion  is  founded  on  fact. 
One  of  the  qualities  which  early  distinguished  John 
C.  Calhoun  was  his  power  of  attention.  A  gentleman 
who  in  his  youth  was  wont  to  accompany  Mr.  Calhoun 
in  his  strolls,  states  that  the  latter  endeavored  to  im- 
press upon  his  friend  the  importance  of  cultivating 
this  faculty ;  "  and  to  encourage  me  in  my  efforts," 
says  the  writer,  "  he  stated  that  to  this  end  he  had 
early  subjected  his  mind  to  such  a  rigid  course  of 
discipline,  and  had  persisted  without  faltering  until  he 
had  early  acquired  a  perfect  control  over  it,  that  he 
could  now  confine  it  to  any  subject  as  long  as  he 
pleased,  without  wandering,  even  for  a  moment ;  that 
it  was  his  uniform  habit,  when  he  set  out  alone  to 
walk  or  ride,  to  select  a  subject  for  reflection,  and 
that  he  never  suffered  his  attention  to  wander  from  it 
until  he  was  satisfied  with  its  examination."  It  has 
been  remarked  by  Sir  William  Hamilton,  that  "the 
difference  between  an  ordinary  mind  and  the  mind  of 
Newton  consists  principally  in  this,  that  the  one  is 
capable  of  a  more  continuous  attention  than  the 
other ;  that  a  Newton  is  able,  without  fatigue,  to 
connect  inference  with  inference  in  one  long  series 
toward  a  determined  end  ;  while  the  man  of  inferior 


84  HARMONIOUS    DEVELOPMENT. 

capacity  is  soon  obliged  to  break  or  let  fall  the  thread 
which  he  has  begun  to  spin." 

Some  people  are  always  complaining  that  they  can- 
not keep  their  thoughts  from  wandering  whenever 
they  sit  down  to  write,  read,  or  work  ;  in  other  words, 
they  have  no  power  to  concentrate  their  minds  on  any 
given  point  or  theme,  to  the  exclusion  of  others.  But 
such  people  have  never  really  learned  to  think.  They 
lack  mental  discipline  and  culture.  They  need  to 
cultivate  strength  of  will.  Napoleon  said  of  himself 
that  his  mind  resembled  a  bureau.  He  could  pull 
out  one  drawer,  examine  its  contents  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  others,  shut  it  up  when  he  had  finished,  and 
then  pull  out  another.  That  is,  he  was  able  to  take 
up  one  subject  after  another,  concentrate  the  whole 
power  of  his  mind  upon  it  while  under  examination, 
then  dismiss  it  at  once  and  completely,  like  the  shutting 
up  of  a  drawer  in  a  bureau,  and  so  proceed  until  the 
entire  range  of  topics  in  his  mind  had  been  passed 
upon.  Such  power  is  a  very  valuable  acquisition  ;  in 
fact,  there  can  be  little  progress  in  mental  growth 
without  it.  If  a  man  cannot  first  control  his  thoughts 
in  some  measure,  how  can  he  control  his  acts  ?  And 
if  not  able  to  control  either  thought  or  act,  he  is  like  a 
balloon  in  the  air,  or  a  ship  on  the  ocean  without  a 
rudder,  the  sport  of  wind  and  wave.  The  power 
which  he  may  possess  will  drive  him  ahead,  but  it 
will  not  drive  him  straight  toward  the  goal  of  his 
ambition. 

HARMONIOUS  DEVELOPMENT. 

We  would  not  deny,  however,  but  there  is  an 
injurious  and  even  an  offensive  sense  in  which  a  man 


HARMONIOUS    DEVELOPMENT.  85 

can  be  possessed  of  one  idea.  A  man  may  become 
like  a  tree  with  all  its  branches  on  one  side,  and  so 
become  a  mental  and  moral  deformity.  What  would 
we  think  of  a  man  who  was  all  head,  or  all  stomach, 
or  all  arms  and  legs  ?  Even  so  a  man  may  become  so 
warped  and  one-sided,  mentally,  as  to  practically 
forget  there  is  anything  else  in  the  world  besides  his 
own  trade  or  profession  ;  and  then  he  is  not  a  whole 
man,  but  simply  a  distorted  fragment.  The  first 
thing  to  be  done  in  human  culture  is  to  develop  as  far 
as  possible  all  the  powers  of  the  mind,  and  then  ask 
nature  which  one  faculty  she  intended  to  have  in  the 
front,  as  leader  of  the  rest.  A  clergyman  all  divinity 
and  nothing  else,  or  a  lawyer  all  precedents  and  de- 
cisions and  revised  statutes,  or  a  scholar  all  book- 
learning  and  nothing  more,  is  always  a  more  or  less 
pitiable  sight.  The  seamstress  should  be  something 
more  than  an  animated  needle,  and  the  day-laborer 
more  than  a  walking  spade.  Saint  Bernard,  the  pious 
abbot  of  Clairvaux,  was  so  much  of  a  saint  that  he 
could  keep  no  flesh  on  his  bones.  Neander,  church 
historian  and  a  professor  in  one  of  the  German  uni- 
versities, so  neglected  the  practical  side  of  his  nature 
that,  after  walking  over  the  ground  for  nearly  thirty 
years,  he  could  not  find  his  way  from  the  lecture- 
room  to  his  own  house  alone.  Coleridge  and  Wads- 
worth,  with  all  their  learning  and  poetical  fame,  did 
not  together  know  enough  to  take  off  the  collar  from 
a  horse,  but  had  to  be  shown  how  by  a  servant  girl. 
Douglas  Jerrold  said  he  once  knew  a  man  with 
twenty-four  languages,  but  who  had  not  an  idea  in 
any  of  them. 

All  these  are  cases  of  one-ideaism  pushed  too  far. 


86  HARMONIOUS   DEVELOPMENT. 

Such  characters  are  not  good  specimens  of  fully- 
developed  men,  but  are  only  distortions  or  dwarfs. 
Walpole  tells  us  that  Charles  James  Fox,  after 
making  his  great  and  exhausting  speech  in  the  trial 
of  Warren  Hastings,  could  so  far  drop  his  specialty 
and  his  lawyer-like  greatness  as  to  go  out,  after  the 
speech  was  concluded,  and  hand  the  ladies  into  their 
coaches  with  all  the  sprightliness  and  easy  gayety  of 
an  idle  gallant.  It  makes  not  so  much  difference  if  a 
man  have  two  or  three  side-tracks  on  which  he  can 
"  switch  off "  now  and  then,  provided  the  side-tracks 
all  lead  to  the  same  terminus  with  the  main  line. 
But  a  man  must  not  be  on  side-tracks  all  his  life. 
Edward  Everett  is  an  example  of  a  man  who  tried  to 
do  so  many  different  kinds  of  work,  that  he  really 
excelled  in  none.  He  started  life  as  a  Unitarian 
minister,  then  became  a  professor  in  Harvard  College, 
from  which  he  had  previously  graduated  at  seventeen, 
went  to  Europe  and  studied  four  years  more,  came 
home  and  became  an  orator  and  lecturer,  went  to 
Congress  for  ten  years  as  a  representative,  was  Gov- 
ernor of  Massachusetts  for  four  years,  became  Minister 
to  England  in  1841,  was  elected  President  of  Harvard 
College  in  1849,  was  next  made  Secretary  of  State 
under  President  Fillmore,  was  chosen  U.  S.  Senator  in 
1853,  but  resigned,  and  lastly  ran  as  candidate  for 
Vice-President  in  1860  on  the  ticket  with  John  Bell 
of  Tennessee.  He  died  two  or  three  years  after  the 
civil  war  broke  out.  De  Quincey,  the  English  writer 
and  opium-eater,  is  another  example  of  the  same 
kind,  and  so  is  Coleridge,  a  man  of  gigantic  intel- 
lectual capacity.  When  Charles  Lamb  heard  of  his 
death,  he  wrote  to  a  friend  :  "  Coleridge  is  dead,  and 


STICK    TO    ONE    THING.  87 

is  said  to  have  left  behind  him  above  forty  thousand 
treatises  on  metaphysics  and  divinity — and  not  one 
of  them  complete."  The  poet  Praead,  describing  a 
certain  vicar,  says  of  him  : 

"  His  talk  is  like»a  stream  which  runs 

With  rapid  change  from  rocks  to  roses; 
It  slips  from  politics  to  puns, 

It  glides  from  Mahomet  to  Moses. 
Beginning  with  the  laws  that  keep 

The  planets  in  their  radiant  courses, 
And  ending  with  some  precept  deep, 

For  skinning  eels,  or  shoeing  horses." 

STICK  TO  ONE  THING. 

All  men  who  hope  to  be  successful  in  life,  must 
choose  some  kind  of  work  for  which  they  find  them- 
selves best  adapted,  and  then  stick  to  it.  Bishop  But- 
ler spent  twenty  years  of  his  life  writing  one  book, 
the  "Analogy,"  but  the  book  is  as  immortal  as  the 
Bible  itself.  Edward  Gibbon,  the  historian,  worked 
the  same  number  of  years  over  his  "Decline  and  Fall 
of  the  Roman  Empire,"  but  that  work  will  never  die. 
Immanuel  Kant,  the  German  philosopher,  devoted 
fifty  years  to  the  investigation  of  metaphysic  prob- 
lems. Isaac  Newton  wrote  his  "Chronology"  over, 
seventeen  times.  Adam  Smith  worked  ten  years  at 
"The  Wealth  of  Nations."  Indeed,  "to  strive  for  a 
high  professional  position,  and  yet  expect  to  have  all 
the  delights  of  leisure ;  to  labor  for  vast  riches,  and 
yet  to  ask  for  freedom  from  anxiety  and  care,  and  all 
the  happiness  which  flows  from  a  contented  mind ;  to 
indulge  in  sensual  gratification,  and  yet  demand 


88  STICK    TO    ONE    THING. 

health,  strength,  and  vigor  ;  to  live  for  self,  and  yet 
to  look  for  the  joys  that  spring  from  a  virtuous  and 
self-denying  life, — is  to  ask  for  impossibilities.  The 
world  is  a  market  where  everything  is  marked  at  a 
settled  price ;  and  whatever  we  buy  with  our  time, 
labor,  or  ingenuity, — whether  riches,  ease,  tranquil- 
ity,  fame,  integrity,  or  knowledge, — we  must  stand 
by  our  decision,  and  not,  like  children,  when  we  have 
purchased  one  thing  repine  that  we  do  not  possess 
another  which  we  did  not  buy." 

In  one  of  Lucian's  Dialogues,  Jupiter  complains  to 
Cupid  that,  though  he  has  had  so  many  intrigues,  he 
was  never  sincerely  beloved.  In  order  to  be  loved, 
says  Cupid,  you  must  lay  aside  your  segis  and  your 
thunderbolts,  and  you  must  curl  and  perfume  your 
hair,  and  place  a  garland  on  your  head,  and  walk  with 
a  soft  step,  and  assume  a  winning,  obsequious  deport- 
ment. But,  replied  Jupiter,  I  am  not  willing  to  resign 
so  much  of  my  dignity.  Then,  returns  Cupid,  leave 
off  desiring  to  be  loved.  He  wanted  to  be  Jupiter 
and  Adonis  at  the  same  time,  and  he  could  not  Alex- 
andre,  of  Paris,  made  ''kid"  gloves  his  specialty,  and 
now  his  trademark  imparts  to  manufactured  ratskins 
a  value  peculiarly  their  own.  William  and  Robert 
Chambers  devoted  their  energies  to  the  production  of 
cheap  books  and  periodicals,  and  their  wealth  is 
counted  by  millions.  Faber  has  fabricated  pencils 
till  he  has  literally  made  his  mark  in  every  land.  The 
genius  of  the  great  Dr.  Brandreth  ran  to  pills,  and 
his  name  is  now  as  familiar  as  a  household  word  all 
over  the  world.  Mason  gave  his  whole  soul  to  the 
invention  of  good  blacking,  and  now  his  name  shines 
like  a  pair  of  boots  to  which  it  has  been  applied. 


STICK    TO    ONE    THING.  89 

Herring,  the  manufacturer  of  safes,  has  salamandered 
himself  into  celebrity,  and  Tobias,  the  watchmaker, 
has  ticked  his  way  to  fame  and  fortune.  A.  T.  Stew- 
art made  bales  of  dry-goods  his  stepping-stones  to  the 
proud  position  of  a  millionaire, — becoming  at  once 
the  Crcesus  and  the  Colossus  of  the  trade  ;  and  Robert 
Bonner,  advertising  by  the  acre,  discovered  a  new 
way  of  reaping  golden  harvests  from  the  overworked 
soil  of  journalism. 

The  greatest  actors  are  those  who  take  one  or  a 
few  characters,  and  leave  all  others  alone.  Edwin 
Booth  plays  ever  the  same  list  of  characters,  while 
Joe  Jefferson  sticks  to  one,  but  in  that  he  has  become 
so  perfect  as  to  almost  lose  in  it  his  personal  identity. 
And  the  same  is  true  of  Lawrence  Barrett,  John  T. 
Raymond,  and  a  score  of  others.  Broad  culture, 
many-sidedness,  are  beautiful  accomplishments  to  look 
at  and  admire,  but  it  is  always  the  men  of  single  and 
intense  purpose  who  concentrate  their  power,  that  do 
the  hard  and  valuable  work  of  the  world,  and  who  are 
everywhere  in  demand  when  such  work  is  to  be  done. 


9o 


SELF-HELP. 


SELF-HELP. 


"At  thirty,  man  suspects  himself  a  fool; 
At  forty,  knows  it,  and  reforms  his  plan; 
At  fifty,  chiding  infamous  delay, 
Pushes  his  prudent  purpose  to  resolve, 
In  all  the  magnanimity  of  thought 
Resolves,  and  re-resolves;  then  dies  the  same." 

— EDWARD  YOUNG. 


poverty,  and  difficulties  of  all 
kinds  in  early  life,  help  develop  and  bring 
out  the  heroic  qualities  of  a  young,  manly 
spirit,  and  assist  in  making  it  great,  strong, 
and  wise,  if  it  ever  becomes  such.  Where- 
as, if  the  pathway  of  a  young  man  is  made 
easy,  safe  and  smooth  before  him  by  the  advice  and 
pecuniary  aid  of  others,  it  will  practically  be  ruinous 
to  character  by  making  him  weak,  irresolute,  and 
effeminate.  It  is  not  in  the  sheltered  garden  or  the 
hot-house,  but  on  the  rugged  Alpine  cliffs,  where  the 
storms  beat  most  violently,  that  the  toughest  plants 
are  reared.  It  is  not  by  the  use  of  corks,  bladders, 
and  life-preservers  that  you  can  best  learn  to  swim, 
but  by  plunging  courageously  into  the  wave  and  buf- 
feting it,  like  Cassius  and  Caesar,  with  lusty  sinews ; 
that  difficulties  and  trials  in  life  knit  one's  muscles 


SELF-HELP.  91 

more  firmly  and  teach  him  self-reliance,  just  as  by 
wrestling  with  an  athlete  who  is  a  superior  in  strength, 
one  would  not  only  increase  his  own  strength,  but 
learn  the  secret  of  his  conqueror's  skill. 

A  certain  amount  of  difficulty,  when  happily  over- 
come, undoubtedly  does  strengthen  resolution,  invig- 
orate the  will,  and  toughen  the  cords  and  sinews  of 
the  mind  and  heart.  But  let  the  obstacles  thicken 
around  any  human  spirit  until  they  become  practically 
insurmountable,  they  crush  it  to  the  earth.  Poe,  in 
"  The  Raven,"  speaks  of  such  an  one, 

"  Whom  unmerciful  disaster 
Followed  fast,  and  followed  faster, 
Till  his  songs  one  burden  bore ; 
Till  the  dirges  of  his  hope,  the 
Melancholy  burden  bore, 
Of '  Never — nevermore.'  " 

No  human  spirit  can  bear  up  long  under  the 
crushing  weight  of  despair,  and  whenever  difficulties 
and  trials  in  life  are  of  such  a  nature,  or  come  so  fast, 
as  to  induce  this  state,  then  they  cripple,  hinder,  and 
bruise  the  mind  more  than  they  assist  in  developing 
its  latent  resources.  The  mother  eagle,  when  her 
birdlings  have  grown  large  and  strong  enough  to  fly, 
calls  them  out  of  the  nest,  drives  them  to  the  edge  of 
the  cliff,  and  then  deliberately  pushes  them  off.  But 
does  she  abandon  them  then  ?  By  no  means  ;  on  the 
contrary,  when  she  sees  them  fluttering  and  falling 
farther  and  farther  down,  swifter  than  an  arrow  she 
darts  beneath  them,  lets  them  fall  upon  her  strong, 
wide  back,  and  carries  them  triumphantly  to  the  old 
nest  again.  This  is  nature's  method  of  developing 


92  HARDSHIP    IN    EARLY    LIFE. 

latent  power,  and  from  this  we  may  gain  a  hint  for 
human  reason  to  profit  by,  in  the  treatment  of  young 
and  growing  minds. 

HARDSHIP  IN  EARLT  LIFE. 

A  certain  amount  of  hardship  in  early  life  seems 
essential  to  ultimate  success,  but  every  young  mind 
needs  to  be  under  the  constant  watch-care  of  some 
fostering  and  protecting  parent  or  guardian.  To 
send  young  people  out  into  the  world,  and  then  leave 
them  to  shift  for  themselves,  or  to  start  a  young  man 
on  a  course  of  education,  and  then  say,  "  Oh,  if  he 
has  the  right  stuff  in  him,  he  will  manage  to  get  along, 
somehow,"  is  not  only  hazardous,  but  a  policy  which 
is  prompted  by  false  philosophy,  not  to  say  by  criminal 
ignorance  of  life's  dangers,  and  of  the  inherent  sus- 
ceptibilities of  an  ardent,  youthful  nature. 

We  fully  agree  with  Dr.  Mathews,  when  he  de- 
nounces "  young  men  of  vivid  imaginations,  who, 
instead  of  carrying  their  own  burdens,  are  always 
dreaming  of  some  Hercules  to  come  and  give  them  a 
'  lift.'  The  vision  haunts  their  minds  of  some  benevo- 
lent old  gentleman — -a  bachelor,  with  no  children,  of 
course,  but  with  a  bag  full  of  money  and  a  trunk  full 
of  mortgages  and  stocks — who,  being  astonishingly 
quick  to  detect  merit  or  genius,  will  give  them  a  trifle 
of  ten  or  twenty  thousand  dollars,  with  which  they 
will  earn  a  hundred  thousand  more.  Or,  perhaps, 
they  will  have  a  legacy  from  some  unheard-of  relative, 
who  will  suddenly  and  conveniently  die."  Also  with 
another  writer,  who  says  :  "  One  of  the  most  disgust- 
ing sights  in  this  world,  is  that  of  a  young  man  with 


HARDSHIP    IN    EARLY    LIFE.  93 

healthy  blood,  broad  shoulders,  presentable  calves, 
and  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  more  or  less,  of  good 
bone  and  muscle,  standing  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  longing  for  help."  It  is  told  of  Lord  Thur- 
low,  the  Chancellor  of  England,  that,  on  being  con- 
sulted by  a  parent  as  to  the  best  means  his  son  could 
adopt  to  secure  success  at  the  bar,  he  thus  replied : 
"  Let  your  son  spend  his  own  fortune,  marry  and 
spend  his  wife's,  and  then  go  to  the  bar  ;  there  will  be 
little  fear  of  his  failure."  It  was  for  this  reason  that 
Thurlow  withheld  from  Lord  Eldon,  when  poor,  a 
commissionership  of  bankruptcy  which  he  had  prom- 
ised him,  saying  it  was  a  favor  to  Eldon  to  withhold 
it.  "  What  he  meant,"  says  Eldon,  "  was,  that  he  had 
learned  (a  clear  truth)  that  I  was  by  nature  very  indo- 
lent, and  it  was  only  want  that  could  make  me  very 
industrious."  Beethoven  said  of  Rossini,  that  he  had 
the  right  stuff  in  him  to  make  a  good  musician,  if  he 
had  only  been  well  flogged  when  a  boy  ;  but  he  was 
spoiled  by  the  ease  with  which  he  composed.  Shelley 
tells  us  of  certain  poets  that  they 

"Are  cradled  into  poetry  by  wrong; 
They  learn  in  suffering  what  they  teach  in  song." 

A  great  musician  once  said  concerning  a  promising, 
but  passionless  cantatrice  :  "  She  sings  well,  but  she 
wants  something,  and  in  that  something,  everything. 
If  I  were  single,  I  would  court  her;  I  would  marry 
her  ;  I  would  maltreat  her ;  I  would  break  her  heart ; 
and  in  six  months  she  would  be  the  greatest  singer  in 
Europe." 

These,  however,  are  extreme  views  and  extreme 
cases,  and  while  such  a  course  of  treatment  might  be 


94  POVERTY    AND    RICHES. 

beneficial  in  some  cases,  1t  would,  as  in  many  others, 
prove  the  opposite.  There  is  and  must  be  in  the  very 
nature  of  things  a  wise  limit,  a  golden  mean,  which 
may  be  said  to  constitute  the  boundary  line  between 
judicious  giving  or  aiding,  and  judicious  withholding 
of  aid. 

PO  VBRTT  AND  RICHES. 

Parents  are  often  blamed  for  working  hard  to  accu- 
mulate property  for  their  children,  and  are  sometimes 
called  their  children's  worst  enemies  for  so  doing,  but 
there  are  a  great  many  heavier  curses  for  children  to 
bear  than  a  "good  start  in  the  world"  through  inher- 
ited wealth.  Sometimes,  indeed,  the  proverb  holds 
good  that  those  rich  young  men  who  begin  their  for- 
tunes where  their  fathers  leave  off,  generally  leave  off 
where  their  fathers  begun.  But  all  rich  men's  sons 
are  not  fools  or  spendthrifts,  any  more  than  all  poor 
children  are  bright,  energetic,  thrifty  and  saving.  The 
Astor  boys  manage  to  keep  that  great  estate  together, 
and  even  to  increase  its  proportions  ;  Wm.  H.  Vander- 
bilt  is  no  unworthy  descendant  of  the  great  Com- 
modore, and  so  in  hundreds  of  similar  instances.  In 
fact,  take  the  country  through,  the  large  accumula- 
tions of  property,  as  a  rule,  continue  in  the  same 
family  through  successive  generations ;  the  father 
handing  it  over  to  the  children,  and  they  in  turn  pre- 
serving it,  if  not  adding  to  it,  for  the  next  generation, 
and  so  on.  Of  course,  there  are  exceptions  t<j  this 
rule,  as  to  all  rules,  but  these  exceptions  are  no  more 
numerous  among  the  rich  than  among  the  poor.  A 
far  greater  number  of  poor  children  turn  out  bad, 
than  rich  ones,  according  to  the  size  of  the  respective 


POVERTY    AND    RICHES.  95 

classes.  In  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred,  it  is 
more  of  a  misfortune  than  a  blessing  to  be  poor. 

But  this  is  not  saying  that  poor  young  men  can  do 
nothing,  because  they  are  poor,  or  because  they  have 
no  one  to  help  them — far  from  it.  Many  of  the  great 
names  in  history,  many  of  the  world's  greatest  heroes 
and  benefactors,  have  been  men  of  humble  parentage 
"whose  cradles  were  rocked  in  lowly  cottages,  and 
who  buffeted  the  billows  of  fate  without  dependence, 
save  upon  the  mercy  of  God  and  their  own  energies." 
Sir  Thomas  Powell  Buxton  used  to  say  that  "  no 
man  ought  to  be  convinced  by  anything  short  of  ab- 
solute failure,  that  he  is  not  meant  to  do  much  for  the 
honor  of  God,  and  the  good  of  mankind."  Neither 
has  any  man,  young  or  old,  a  right  to  be  discouraged 
on  account  of  adverse  circumstances  or  feeble  abilities. 
Every  giant  oak  in  the  forest  was  once  contained  in 
a  little  acorn,  and  was  kicked  about  by  the  feet  of 
passing  swine.  Mohammed,  who  founded  a  new  reli- 
gion and  changed  the  fate  of  empires,  was  an  orphan 
at  eight,  and  afterward  a  camel-driver.  Pope  Gregory 
VII.  was  a  carpenter's  son;  Copernicus,  who  intro- 
duced the  modern  system  of  astronomy,  was  the  son 
of  a  baker ;  Kepler,  hardly  less  distinguished,  was  a 
waiter-boy  in  a  hotel  kept  by  his  father. 

In  England,  Captain  Cook,  the  famous  navigator, 
James  Brindley,  the  first  man  who  devoted  himself  to 
civil  engineering  as  a  profession,  and  the  originator 
of  the  canal  system,  and  Robert  Burns,  the  poet,  be- 
longed all  of  them  to  the  class  of  common  day-labor- 
ers. Masons  and  bricklayers  can  boast  of  Ben  Jon- 
son,  who  worked  at  the  building  of  Lincoln's  Inn  with 
a  trowel  in  his  hand,  and  a  book  in  his  pocket,  Ed-  t 


96  POVERTY    AND    RICHES. 

wards  and  Telford,  the  'engineers,  Hugh  Miller  the 
geologist,  and  Allan  Cunningham  the  writer  and 
sculptor ;  whilst  among  distinguished  carpenters  we 
find  the  names  of  Inigo  Jones  the  architect,  Harrison 
the  chronometer-maker,  John  Hunter  the  physiolo- 
gist, Romney  and  Opie  the  painters,  Professor  Lee 
the  Orientalist,  and  John  Gibson  the  sculptor.  From 
the  weaver  class  have  sprung  Simpson  the  mathemati- 
cian, Bacon  the  sculptor,  the  two  Milners,  Adam 
Walker,  John  Foster,  Wilson  the  ornithologist,  Dr. 
Livingstone  the  missionary  traveler.  Shoemakers 
have  given  us  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel  the  great  Ad- 
miral, Sturgeon  the  electrician,  Samuel  Drew  the  es- 
sayist, Gifford,  the  editor  of  the  "  Quarterly  Review," 
Bloomfield  the  poet,  and  William  Carey  the  mission- 
ary ;  while  Morrison,  another  laborious  missionary, 
was  a  maker  of  shoe  lasts. 

Cardinal  Wolsey,  Daniel  Defoe,  the  writer,  Aken- 
side  and  Kirke  White,  poets,  were  sons  of  butchers ; 
the  immortal  Bunyan  was  a  tinker.  Newcomen, 
Watt,  and  Stephenson,  names  connected  with  the  in- 
vention and  perfecting  of  the  steam-engine,  were  all 
of  poor  and  humble  origin  like  the  others, — the  first 
a  blacksmith,  the  second  a  maker  of  mathematical  in- 
struments, and  the  third  an  engine-fireman.  John 
Bewick,  the  father  of  wood  engraving,  was  a  coal- 
miner,  Baffin,  discoverer  of  "Baffin's  Bay,"  began  his 
seafaring  career  as  a  man  before  the  mast,  and  Sir 
Cloudesley  Shovel  as  a  cabin-boy.  Herschel  played 
the  oboe  in  a  military  band.  Chantrey  was  a  journey- 
man carver,  Etty  a  journeyman  printer,  and  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence  the  son  of  a  tavern-keeper.  Michael 
Faraday,  the  son  of  a  poor  blacksmith,  was  in  early 


EARLY    LIFE    OF    ANDREW    JACKSON.  97 

life  apprenticed  to  a  bookbinder,  and  worked  at  that 
trade  until  he  reached  his  twenty-second  year ;  he 
now  occupies  the  very  first  rank  as  a  philosopher,  ex- 
celling even  his  master,  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  in  the 
art  of  lucidly  expounding  the  most  difficult  and  ab- 
struse points  in  natural  science. 

EARLT  LIFE  OF  ANDREW  JACKSON. 

Drawing  nearer  home,  look  at  the  early  life  of  An- 
drew Jackson,  whose  soubriquet  of  "Old  Hickory"  is 
still  so  potent  with  large  numbers  of  his  countrymen. 
His  father,  after  whom  Andrew  was  named,  emi- 
grated to  North  Carolina  in  1765,  and  died  five  days 
after  his  son's  birth.  The  mother,  with  her  babe  and 
two  other  children,  then  moved  into  a  destitute  por- 
tion of  South  Carolina,  where  Andrew's  boyhood  was 
passed.  Their  means  were  slender.  When  the  Revo- 
lution broke  out  the  oldest  boy  enlisted,  and  was 
killed.  At  the  age  of  thirteen,  Andrew,  with  his 
brother  Robert,  joined  a  corps  of  volunteers  attached 
to  General  Sumter's  brigade. 

In  the  next  year,  1781,  both  the  boys  were  captured 
by  a  party  of  dragoons.  Andrew  was  ordered  by  a 
Tory  officer  to  clean  a  pair  of  muddy  boots,  but 
proudly  refused,  whereupon  the  officer  aimed  a  sword- 
stroke  at  his  head,  which  the  boy  parried,  and  there- 
by received  a  wound  upon  the  hand  which  he  bore  for 
life.  His  brother  was  ordered  to  do  the  same  thing 
for  another  officer,  and  for  his  refusal  actually  received 
a  sword-cut  upon  the  head  from  which  he  never  re- 
covered. In  the  prison  at  Camden,  the  boys  suffered 
severely  from  their  undressed  wounds,  and  also  from 


98  EARLY    LIFE    OF    ANDREW    JACKSON: 

small-pox  which  raged  among  the  prisoners.  When 
at  length  they  were  exchanged  with  five  neighbors, 
and  given  to  their  mother,  they  were  little  more  than 
mere  wrecks.  From  the  prison  to  their  home  was  a 
distance  of  forty  miles,  and  there  were  but  two  horses 
for  the  whole  party.  On  one,  without  saddle  or 
bridle,  Mrs.  Jackson  rode,  and  on  the  other  the  weak 
and  wounded  Robert  was  borne  ;  young  Andrew,  bare- 
footed, half-naked,  and  half-sick  with  the  small-pox, 
trudging  the  whole  distance  on  foot.  A  heavy  rain 
set  in,  and  drenched  the  party  to  the  skin,  and  drove 
the  disease  back  again  into  the  systems  of  the  two 
boys.  Two  days  after,  Robert  died,  and  Andrew 
hung  upon  the  brink  of  death  for  two  weeks.  After 
his  recovery,  his  mother  died,  and  then  the  seventh 
President  of  the  United  States  was  left  alone  upon 
the  earth,  penniless  and  friendless. 

For  a  time  he  became  reckless  and  dissipated,  but 
in  his  eighteenth  year  he  suddenly  changed  his  course 
of  life  and  commenced  to  study  law  at  Salisbury,  N. 
C.  Two  years  after  he  was  licensed  to  practice,  and 
received  from  the  Governor  of  the  State,  without  ask- 
ing, the  appointment  of  solicitor  for  the  western  dis- 
trict, embracing  the  present  State  of  Tennessee.  In 
the  spring  of  1 788,  at  just  twenty-one  years  of  age, 
he  crossed  the  mountains  to  his  new  home,  and  as  the 
country  was  wild  and  unsettled,  he  immediately  en- 
gaged in  bloody  warfare  with  the  fierce  savage.  His 
subsequent  history  has  become  part  and  parcel  of  the 
national  record.  He  settled  at  Nashville,  married  a 
beautiful  woman,  went  to  Congress,  from  thence  on, 
step  by  step,  until  he  was  seated  in  the  Presidential 
chair,  his  name  enrolled  among  the  world's  great  men. 


EARLY    LIFE   OF    ANDREW   JACKSON.  99 

Surely  no  boy  or  young  man  in  these  days  could 
have  a  harder  time  getting  started  in  life  than  did 
young  Jackson.  His  success  was  owing  to  several 
causes,  but  chiefly  to  his  own  determination,  courage, 
pluck,  ability,  and  will.  His  extreme  youthfulness 
while  passing  through  that  series  of  trials  was  much 
in  his  favor,  as  boys  usually  recover  from  the  stunning 
effect  of  such  blows  much  easier  and  quicker  than 
maturer  minds.  His  first  appointment  from  the  Gov- 
ernor, and  his  well-chosen  marriage,  also,  were  events 
greatly  in  his  favor,  and  helped  him  much  ;  but  after 
that,  Andrew  Jackson  depended  chiefly  upon  his  own 
resources  and  powers. 

Generally,  as  another  has  said,  "  Our  strength  is 
measured  by  our  plastic  power.  From  the  same 
materials  one  man  builds  palaces,  another  hovels ; 
one  warehouses,  another  villas  ;  bricks  and  mortar  are 
mortar  and  bricks  until  the  architect  makes  them 
something  else.  Thus  it  is  that  in  the  same  family, 
in  the  same  circumstances,  one  man  rears  a  stately 
edifice,  while  his  brother,  vacillating  and  incompetent, 
lives  forever  amid  ruins  ;  the  block  of  granite,  which 
was  an  obstacle  in  the  pathway  of  the  weak,  becomes 
a  stepping-stone  in  the  pathway  of  the  resolute.  The 
difficulties  which  utterly  dishearten  one  man  only 
stiffen  the  sinews  of  another,  who  looks  on  them 
as  a  sort  of  mental  spring-board,  by  which  to  vault 
across  the  gulf  of  failure  onto  the  sure,  solid  ground  of 
full  success."  When  John  C.  Calhoun  was  in  Yale 
College,  he  was  ridiculed  by  his  fellow-students  for  his 
intense  application  to  study.  "  Why,  sir,"  he  replied, 
"  I  am  forced  to  make  the  most  of  my  time,  that 
I  may  acquit  myself  creditably  when  in  Congress." 


IOO 


EARLY    LIFE    OF    ANDREW   JACKSON. 


A  laugh  followed,  when  he  exclaimed  :  "  Do  you 
doubt  it  ?  I  assure  you,  if  I  were  not  convinced  of 
my  ability  to  reach  the  national  capital,  as  a  repre- 
sentative, within  the  next  three  years,  I  would  leave 
college  this  very  day  !  " 

Therefore,  instead  of  being  one  of  the  "  foiled 
potentialities  "  or  possibilities  of  which  the  world  is  so 
full;  instead  of  being  merely  a  " subjunctive  hero," 
who  always  might,  could,  would,  or  should,  do  great 
things,  but  whose  not  doing  great  things  is  what  no- 
body can  understand,  let  every  man  be  in  the  impera- 
tive mood,  and  do  that  of  which  his  talents  are 
indicative.  If  this  lesson  of  self-help  is  once  learned 
and  acted  on,  every  man  will  be  able  to  discover 
within  himself  the  elements  and  capacities  of  useful- 
ness and  honor. 


SELF-RELIANCE.  IOI 


SELF-RELIANCE. 


"  Sure,  he  that  made  us  with  such  large  discourse, 
Looking  before  and  after,  gave  us  not 
That  capability  and  godlike  reason 
To  rust  in  us  unused."  — SHAKESPERE. 


FTER  the  age  of  maturity  has  been 
reached,  one  should  learn  to  think  for 
and  rely  upon  himself,  and  learn  to  be 
guided  by  his  own  conclusions  ;  but  before 
this  can  be  done  with  entire  safety,  one 
must  learn  to  think  correctly,  and  reason 
soundly.  While  a  too  great  intellectual  dependence, 
on  the  one  hand,  is  productive  of  mental  weakness 
and  servility,  a  too  great  intellectual  confidence,  on 
the  other,  is  sure  to  lead  into  rashness  and  folly. 

It  would  be  dangerous  advice  to  give  any  young 
man,  to  say :  "  Think  for  yourself,  and  follow  out 
your  own  ideas,  right  or  wrong ;  for  one  of  the  most 
besetting  sins  of  a  youthful  mind  is  that  of  ignoring 
the  past,  and  rejecting  the  counsels  of  the  aged. 
Every  man  who  has  reached  the  age  of  forty  can  look 
back  and  see  how  foolish,  and  rash,  and  headstrong 
he  was  when  the  hot,  wild  impulses  of  youth  and 
early  manhood  were  burning  like  fire  in  his  heart  and 
bones ;  when  he  felt  he  could  do  anything,  and  knew 


102  IMAGINATION. 

as  well  what  was  good  for  him  as  those  by  whom  he 
was  surrounded.  Where  a  man  is  confident  at  twenty, 
he  is  quite  likely  to  be  cautious  at  forty ;  where  he 
was  sure  he  was  right  at  twenty-five,  he  is  more  than 
likely  to  be  mistrustful  and  timid  at  forty-five  or  fifty. 
One  difficulty  about  over-confidence  with  immature 
minds  in  early  life  is,  that  they  are  very  liable  to  mis- 
take imaginings  and  fancies  for  sound  reasoning  and 
solid  fact. 

IMAGINATION. 

Never  is  the  imagination  more  active  or  more  de- 
ceptive than  in  the  fresh  morning  of  life.  This  faculty 
of  the  mind  seems  to  be  the  first  to  develop.  Even 
in  childhood  its  power  is  great,  and  a  little  later  on  it 
becomes  well-nigh  supreme  among  the  mental  forces. 
And  very  few  realize  what  an  arch  and  gay  deceiver 
this  intellectual  sprite  and  trickster  is  among  men. 
Sir  Walter  Scott  exclaims  in  "  Rokeby  : " 

"  Woe  to  the  youth  whom  fancy  gains, 
Winning  from  reason's  hand  the  reins." 

And  another  old  poet  adds  : 

"  Subtle  opinion, 

Working  in  man's  decayed  faculties, 
Cuts  and  shapes  illusive  fantasies, 
Whereon  we  ground  a  thousand  lies." 

Then  Shakespere  culminates  the  accusation  by  de- 
claring that  "  the  lunatic,  the  lover,  and  the  poet  are 
of  imagination  all  compact."  Therefore,  when  young 
men  and  maidens  become  susceptible  to  the  influences 


SELF-CONCEIT.  103 

of  the  tender  passion  ;  when  they  begin  to  read  (and 
to  write,  if  they  can)  sentimental  poetry ;  when  the 
world  looks  all  bright  and  fascinating  to  them  ;  when 
every  power  of  body  and  mind  is  intensely  alive  and 
eager  for  distinction,  and  the  spirit  thirsts  for  activity 
and  glory,  it  will  hardly  be  safe  for  them  to  follow  out 
blindly  their  own  ideas,  or  to  trust  too  much  to  their 
own  independent  thought  and  judgment.  The  advice 
of  older  and  cooler  heads  should  never  be  con- 
temptuously thrown  aside  at  such  a  period  of  life. 

There  comes  a  time,  however,  sooner  or  later  in 
human  experience,  when  all  persons  are  compelled  to 
think  and  act  for  themselves. 

SELF-CONCEIT. 

"This  self-conceit  is  a  most  dangerous  elf. 
He  who  doth  trust  too  much  unto  himself 
Can  never  fail  to  fall  in  many  snares." 

/  f  If  we  were  called  upon  to  describe  an  intellectual 
devil,  with  horns,  and  hoofs,  and  tail  arrayed,  whose 
very  presence  was  like  blasting  mildew  upon  the  mind 
and  heart,  whose  looks  destroyed,  and  whose  breath 
benumbed,  we  should  say  his  name  was  Self-Conceit// 
When  this  habit  of  mind  becomes  confirmed  and  set- 
tled, the  man  or  woman  might  as  well  be  dead  as 
alive,  so  far  as  doing  good  or  being  successful  is  con- 
cerned. There  is  no  intellectual  disease,  no  malady 
of  the  brain  to  be  compared  with  it  for  deadliness  of 
nature.  It  makes  one  disagreeable  to  all  around  ;  it 
turns  him  into  a  laughing-stock ;  it  destroys  the 
power  of  all  true  thought  and  right  action  ;  it  creates 


104  THE    PRESENT    AGE. 

a  false  world  out  of  a*  real  one.  No  man  can  be 
respected,  or  be  useful,  or  amount  to  anything  in  the 
world,  if  he  bears  the  character  of  a  conceited  cox- 
comb. Any  so-called  independence  of  thought,  there- 
fore, which  leads  to  this  evil,  we  most  thoroughly 
deprecate  and  abominate. 

But  a  wholesome  fear  of  this  mild  form  of  lunacy 
need  not  deter  any  one  from  trying,  to  the  utmost  of 
his  capacity,  to  be  original  in  thought,  and  ingenious 
in  methods  and  aims.  It  need  not,  and  must  not, 
lead  any  one  to  be  afraid  to  think  for  himself,  or  to 
seek  to  carry  out  his  ideas  in  all  legitimate  ways,  and 
to  a  reasonable  extent.  Indeed,  after  one  has  thor- 
oughly and  conscientiously  endeavored,  by  all  means 
within  his  reach,  to  ascertain  the  absolute  truth  and 
the  best  possible  way,  he  must  then  be  true  to  his  own 
matured  convictions  and  ideas,  whether  these  prove  to 
be  in  harmony  with  the  convictions  and  ideas  of 
others  or  not.  But  there  is  a  world  of  difference  be- 
tween being  rash,  headstrong,  self-conceited,  uppish, 
and  indolent,  and  being  firm,  intelligent,  thoughtful, 
persistent,  ingenious,  and  wise. 

THE  PRESENT  AGE. 

This  age  of  the  world  is  in  many  respects  unjike 
past  ages,  and  calls  for  different  measures  and  plans. 
The  world  is  rushing  on  at  a  fearful  rate  of  speed,  and 
he  who  would  keep  up  with  his  fellows  must  learn  to 
think  quickly,  be  fertile  in  expedient,  be  shrewd, 
active  and  wise,  and  able  to  travel  fast.  We  fully 
coincide  with  another  when  he  says:  "  The  days  when 
a  man  could  get  rich  by  plodding  on,  without  enter- 


THE    PRESENT   AGE.  105 

prise  and  without  taxing  his  brains,  have  gone  by. 
Mere  industry  and  economy  are  not  enough ;  there 
must  be  intelligence  and  original  thought.  Quick- 
witted Jacks  always  get  ahead  of  the  slow-witted 
giants.  Whatever  your  calling,  inventiveness,  adapt- 
ability, promptness  of  decision,  must  direct  and  utilize 
your  force  ;  and  if  you  cannot  find  markets,  you  must 
make  them.  In  business,  you  need  not  know  many 
books,  but  you  must  know  your  trade  and  men  ;  you 
may  be  slow  at  logic,  but  you  must  dart  at  a  chance 
like  a  robin  at  a  worm.  You  may  stick  to  your 
groove  in  politics  and  religion,  but  in  your  business 
you  must  switch  into  new  tracks,  and  shape  yourself 
to  every  exigency.  Every  calling  is  filled  with  bold, 
keen,  subtle-witted  men,  fertile  in  expedients  and 
devices,  who  are  perpetually  inventing  new  ways  of 
buying  cheaply,  underselling,  or  attracting  custom  ; 
and  the  man  who  sticks  doggedly  to  the  old-fashioned 
methods — who  runs  in  a  perpetual  rut — will  find 
himself  outstripped  in  the  race  of  life,  if  he  is  not 
stranded  on  the  sands  of  popular  indifference.  Keep, 
then,  your  eyes  open  and  your  wits  about  you,  and 
you  may  distance  all  competitors ;  but  ignore  all  new 
methods,  and  you  will  find  yourself  like  a  lugger 
contending  with  an  ocean  racer." 

Again,  we  are  not  the  only  people  who  run  every- 
thing into  the  ground,  but  we  certainly  do  it  more 
generally  and  with  greater  rapidity  than  any  other 
nation  on  the  globe.  No  matter  what  branch  of 
business  is  started — from  the  manufacture  of  pills  or 
matches  to  that  of  sewing-machines  or  watches,  or 
from  the  ice-trade  to  the  traffic  in  guano  or  Japanese 
goods — the  moment  any  business  is  discovered  to  be 


106  SELF-ADVERTISING. 

profitable,  it  is  rushed  into  by  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands,  till  a  reaction  follows,  and  it  is  ruined. 
These  facts  call  for  the  formation  and  exercise  of  a 
strong  individuality  of  character,  and  for  true  inde- 
pendence of  thought  and  act,  but  they  need  not,  and 
must  not,  make  a  man  crazy  or  foolish  through  over 
self-confidence  or  disgusting  conceit  in  opinion. 

SELF-AD  VERTISING. 

The  present  age  is  also  an  age  of  advertising,  pre- 
eminently, and  it  is  a  profitable  and  interesting 
inquiry,  to  know  how  far  one  should  seek  to  ad- 
vertise his  own  ability  and  skill.  One  thing  is 
certain  ;  there  must  be  no  false  modesty  in  him  who 
would  be  successful,  and,  at  the  same  time,  there  need 
be  no  display  of  excessive  impudence  and  brazen- 
faced boldness.  True  courage  in  character  is  a  far 
different  article  from  either  of  these.  There  is,  as  has 
been  well  said,  a  happy  medium  between  the  two  ex- 
tremes ;  between  the  "  noisy,  blatant  pretension  that 
is  forever  stunning  us  with  proclamations  of  its  own 
ability,  and  that  excessive  humility  which  strips  itself 
of  all  real  merit,  and  shrinks  into  a  corner,  frightened 
at  its  own  shadow.  This  medium,  although  somewhat 
difficult  to  describe,  is  not  impossible  to  realize  in 
practice,  and  at  this  every  one  should  aim.  Because 
there  is  danger  of  invoicing  yourself  above  your 
real  value,  it  does  not  follow  that  you  should  always 
be  underrating  your  own  worth.  The  great  mass  of 
men  have  no  time  to  examine  the  merits  of  others. 
They  are  busy  about  their  own  affairs,  which  claim  all 
their  attention.  They  cannot  go  about  hunting  for 


SELF-ADVERTISING.  IO7 

modest  worth  in  every  nook  and  corner ;  those 
who  would  get  their  good  opinion  must  come  forward 
with  their  claims,  and  at  least  show  their  own 
confidence  in  them,  by  backing  them  with  vigorous 
assertion." 

The  different  ways  and  methods  of  self-advertising 
practiced  in  these  times  are  legion.  Some  of  them 
are  ingenious  to  the  last  degree,  displaying  great  tact 
and  talent  on  the  part  of  those  wishing  to  get 
notoriety,  and  through  that  to  attract  custom  to 
business,  get  a  living,  and,  perhaps,  make  money. 

We  refer  now,  not  to  the  lawful  and  legitimate  ad- 
vertising of  goods  in  mercantile  life  ;  this  is  not  only 
right  in  itself,  but  something  that  must  be  done  as  a 
matter  of  business  policy.  But  we  are  speaking  of 
advertising  self,  not  goods,  and  one  method  which  is 
sometimes  resorted  to,  is  happily  hit  off  in  the  follow- 
ing sketch  :  "  There  are  two  rival  doctors  in  town, 
equal  in  learning  and  skill,  and  who  have  just  begun 
their  professional  careers.  Dr.  Easy  puts  his  card  on 
his  door  and  in  the  newspapers,  and  then  sits  down  in 
his  office  and  waits  patiently  for  patients.  If,  fortu- 
nately, somebody  is  good  enough  to  break  a  leg  or  to 
be  seized  with  the  cholera  at  his  very  door,  he  secures 
a  customer  ;  otherwise,  he  may  spend  years  in  putting 
knowledge  into  his  head  by  study,  before  he  will  put 
any  money  in  his  purse.  Not  so  with  Dr.  Push.  He 
has  a  mean  opinion  of  the  passive  system,  puts  up  a 
stunning  brass  plate  on  his  door,  gets  himself  puffed 
in  the  newspapers,  dresses  in  the  height  of  fashion, 
talks  learnedly,  looks  wise,  and  keeps  a  "  two-forty  " 
horse  and  carriage,  before  he  has  a  visit  to  make.  He 
hires  persons  to  startle  his  neighbors  at  midnight  with 


IO8  SELF-ADVERTISING. 

peals  at  his  bell ;  is  continually  called  out  of  church  ; 
and,  more  than  once,  has  his  name  shouted,  as  being 
instantly  wanted,  while  attending  a  concert  or  lecture 
at  the  Academy  of  Music.  Instead  of  sitting  down 
in  his  office  and  dozing  over  Brodie  and  Magendie, 
he  scours  the  streets  and  the  whole  adjoining  country 
with  his  carriage,  driving  from  morning  till  night  at  a 
killing  pace,  as  if  life  and  death  hung  on  his  steps  ; 
and,  neglecting  no  form  of  advertisement,  is 
probably  making  two  thousand  dollars  a  year  before 
Dr.  Easy  has  heard  the  rap  of  his  first  patient." 

This  kind  of  sharp  practice  will  sometimes  succeed, 
and  sometimes  fail.  If  it  wins,  the  man's  fortune  is 
thereby  advanced  for  the  time  being ;  but  if  it  is  ex- 
posed, the  man  will  very  likely  be  obliged  to  leave 
town  and  try  again  in  another  locality  more  favorably 
conditioned  for  scheming.  Washington  Irving  once 
said  that  "  a  barking  dog  was  often  more  useful 
than  a  sleeping  lion,"  and  there  is  some  truth  in  the 
assertion  ;  but,  whether  useful  or  not,  no  man  would 
care  to  settle  down  permanently  in  the  sphere  or 
character  of  a  barking  dog. 


LABOR.  ICQ 


LABOR. 


"  If  little  labor,  little  are  our  gains; 
Man's  fortunes  are  according  to  his  pains." 

— ROBERT  HERRICK. 


VOID  idleness,  and  fill  up  all  the  spaces 
of  thy  time  with  severe  and  useful  em- 
ployment ;  for,  of  all  employments,  bodily 
labor  is  the  most  useful,  and  of  the 
greatest  benefit  for  driving  away  the 
devil/'  Perhaps,  if  the  earth  had  brought 
forth  thorns  and  thistles  from  the  first,  and  Adam 
and  Eve  had  been  put  at  hard  work,  instead  of  in  the 
midst  of  a  garden,  with  plenty  of  time  and  leisure  to 
toy  with  fruits,  and  flowers,  and  vines,  they  might  not 
have  yielded  so  readily  to  the  voice  of  temptation. 
But,  having  been  ruined  through  comparative  ease 
and  idleness,  the  human  race  was  put  at  hard  work 
for  the  express  purpose  of  preventing,  as  far  as 
possible,  the  recurrence  of  the  evil. 

IDLENESS. 

Lazy,  shiftless  people  are,  as  a  rule,  poor,  miserable, 
and  comparatively  useless.  Industry  is  the  price  of 
excellence  in  everything.  They  who  are  the  most 


HO  GENIUS    AND    INDUSTRY. 

persistent,  and  work  in  the  truest  spirit,  will  invariably 
be  the  most  successful.  Fortune  is  ever  on  the  side 
of  the  industrious,  as  winds  and  waves  are  on  the  side 
of  the  best  navigators.  Genius  may  not  be  necessary, 
though  even  genius  of  the  highest  sort  does  not 
despise  the  exercise  of  common  qualities.  The  very 
greatest  men  have  been  among  the  least  believers  in 
the  power  of  genius,  and  were  as  worldly-wise  and 
persevering  as  the  successful  men  of  a  commoner  sort. 
Some  have  even  defined  genius  to  be  only  common 
sense  intensified.  A  distinguished  teacher  and  presi- 
dent of  a  college  spoke  of  it  as  the  power  of  making 
efforts.  Buffon  said  of  genius  :  "  It  is  patience." 

Newton's  was  unquestionably  a  mind  of  the  very 
highest  order,  and  yet,  when  asked  by  what  means  he 
had  worked  out  his  extraordinary  discoveries,  he 
modestly  answered :  "  By  always  thinking  upon 
them."  At  another  time  he  thus  expressed  his 
method  of  study :  "  I  keep  the  subject  continually 
before  me,  and  wait  till  the  first  dawnings  open 
slowly,  by  little  and  little,  into  a  full  and  clear  light." 
In  Newton's  case,  as  it  is  in  every  other,  it  was  only 
by  diligent  application  and  perseverance  that  a  great 
reputation  was  achieved.  Even  his  recreation  con- 
sisted merely  in  the  variety  of  his  industry — leaving 
one  subject  only  to  take  up  another.  To  Dr.  Bentley 
he  said  :  "  If  I  have  done  the  public  any  service,  it  is 
due  to  nothing  but  industry  and  patient  thought." 

GENIUS   AND  INDUSTRT. 

Ninety  per  cent,  of  what  men  call  genius  is  a  talent 
for  hard  work ;  only  the  remaining  tenth  is  the 


GENIUS    AND    INDUSTRY.  I  I  I 

fancied  ability  of  doing  things  without  work.  "  The 
extraordinary  results  effected  by  dint  of  sheer  in- 
dustry and  perseverance,  have  led  many  distinguished 
men  to  doubt  whether  the  gift  of  genius  be  so 
exceptional  an  endowment  as  it  is  generally  supposed 
to  be.  Thus,  Voltaire  held  that  it  is  only  a  very 
slight  line  of  separation  that  divides  the  man  of 
genius  from  the  man  of  ordinary  mould.  Locke,  Hel- 
vetius,  and  Diderot  believed  that  all  men  have  an 
equal  aptitude  for  genius,  and  that  what  some  men 
are  able  to  effect,  under  the  influence  of  the  funda- 
mental laws  which  regulate  the  march  of  intellect, 
must  also  be  within  the  reach  of  others,  who,  in  the 
same  circumstances,  apply  themselves  to  like  pursuits. 
But  while  admitting,  to  the  fullest  extent,  the  wonder- 
ful achievements  of  labor,  and  also  recognizing  the 
fact  that  men  of  the  most  distinguished  genius 
have  invariably  been  found  the  most  indefatigable 
workers,  it  must  nevertheless  be  sufficiently  obvious 
that,  without  the  original  endowment  of  heart  and 
brain,  no  amount  of  labor,  however  well  applied, 
would  have  produced  a  Shakespere,  a  Newton,  a 
Beethoven,  or  a  Michael  Angelo. 

"  Dalton,  the  chemist,  always  repudiated  the  notion 
of  his  being  a  'genius,'  attributing  everything  which 
he  had  accomplished  to  simple  industry  and  accumu- 
lation. John  Hunter  said  of  himself:  'My  mind  is 
like  a  bee-hive ;  but  full  as  it  is  of  buzz  and  apparent 
confusion,  it  is  yet  full  of  order,  regularity,  and 
food,  collected  with  incessant  industry  from  the 
choicest  stores  of  nature.'  We  have,  indeed,  but  to 
glance  at  the  biographies  of  great  men,  to  find  that 
the  most  distinguished  inventors,  artists,  thinkers,  and 


112  WORTHY    EXAMPLES. 

workers  of  all  sorts,  *owe  their  success  in  a  great 
measure  to  their  indefatigable  industry  and  applica- 
tion. They  were  men  who  turned  all  things  to 
gold — even  time  itself.  Hence  it  happens  that  the 
men  who  have  most  moved  the  world,  have  not  been 
so  much  men  of  genius,  strictly  so  called,  as  men  of 
intense  mediocre  abilities,  untiring  workers,  perse- 
vering, self-reliant,  and  indefatigable  ;  not  so  often 
those  gifted  with  naturally  bright  and  shining 
qualities,  as  those  who  have  applied  themselves 
diligently  to  their  work,  in  whatever  line  that  might 
lie.  A  great  point  to  be  arrived  at,  is  to  get  the 
working  quality  well  trained.  When  that  is  done, 
the  rest  will  be  found  comparatively  easy.  We  must 
repeat,  and  again  repeat,  facility  will  come  with  labor. 
Not  even  the  simplest  art  can  be  accomplished 
without  it." 

WORTHY  EXAMPLES. 

As  history  is  philosophy  teaching  by  example,  so 
biography  furnishes  the  best  illustrations  of  principle 
and  theory.  Therefore,  to  show  the  reader  what  has 
been  done  by  patient  industry  and  steadfast  applica- 
tion, we  will  give  a  number  of  brief  sketches  of 
distinguished  workers,  taken  from  different  ranks  of 
life.  Sir  Robert  Peel,  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
statesmen  and  prime  ministers  that  England  ever 
had,  was  a  noted  worker.  The  Peel  family  rose  from 
humble  circumstances  to  a  position  of  great  renown, 
wholly  through  the  power  of  industry.  Sir  Robert's 
grandfather,  the  first  of  the  line,  was  a  small  yeoman, 
living  on  a  poor,  sterile  farm  hear  Blackburn.  Find- 
ing he  could  not  support  his  large  family  by  farming, 


WORTHY    EXAMPLES.  113 

he  began  the  business  of  ealico-making.  He  was,  in 
fact,  the  originator  of  the  process  of  printing  calico 
by  machinery. 

It  was  then  customary,  in  such  houses  as  the  Peels' 
to  use  pewter  plates  at  dinner.  Having  sketched  a 
figure  or  pattern  on  one  of  the  plates,  the  thought 
struck  him  that  an  impression  might  be  got  from  it 
in  reverse,  and  printed  on  calico  in  color.  In  a 
cottage  at  the  end  of  the  farmhouse  lived  a  woman 
who  kept  a  calendering  machine,  and,  going  into  her 
cottage,  he  put  the  plate,  with  color  rubbed  into  the 
figured  part,  and  some  calico  over  it,  through  the 
machine,  when  it  was  found  to  leave  a  satisfactory 
impression.  Such  is  said  to  have  been  the  origin  of 
roller-printing  on  calico.  Robert  Peel  shortly  per- 
fected this  process,  and  the  first  pattern  he  brought 
out  was  a  parsley  leaf ;  hence  he  is  spoken  of,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Blackburn,  to  this  day,  as  "  Parsley 
Peel."  The  process  of  calico-printing  by  what  is 
called  the  mule  machine — that  is,  by  means  of  a 
wooden  cylinder  in  relief,  with  an  engraved  copper 
cylinder — was  afterward  brought  to  perfection  by  one 
of  his  sons,  the  head  of  the  firm  of  Messrs.  Peel  and 
Co.,  of  Church,  England. 

Sir  Robert  Peel  (the  first  baronet,  and  the  second 
manufacturer  of  the  name)  inherited  all  his  father's 
enterprise,  ability,  and  industry.  His  position,  at 
starting  in  life,  was  little  above  that  of  an  ordinary 
working  man,  for  his  father,  though  laying  the  founda- 
tions of  future  prosperity,  was  still  struggling  with 
the  difficulties  arising  from  insufficient  capital. 
When  Robert  was  only  twenty  years  of  age,  he  deter- 
mined to  begin  the  business  of  cotton-printing,  which 


114  WORTHY    EXAMPLES. 

he  had  by  this  time  learned  with  his  father,  on  his 
own  account.  His  uncle,  James  Haworth,  and  Wil- 
liam Yates  of  Blackburn,  joined  him  in  his  enterprise, 
the  whole  capital  which  they  could  raise  among  them 
amounting  to  only  about  ,£500,  the  principal  part  of 
which  was  supplied  by  William  Yates.  The  frugal 
style  in  which  the  partners  lived  may  be  inferred 
from  the  following  incident  in  their  early  career: 
William  Yates,  being  a  married  man,  commenced 
housekeeping  on  a  small  scale,  and  to  oblige  Peel, 
who  was  single,  agreed  to  take  him  as  a  lodger.  The 
sum  which  the  latter  first  paid  for  board  and  lodging 
was  eight  shillings  a  week,  but  Yates,  considering  this 
too  little,  insisted  on  the  weekly  payment  being  in- 
creased a  shilling,  to  which  Peel  at  first  demurred, 
and  a  difference  between  the  partners  took  place, 
which  was  eventually  compromised  by  the  lodger 
paying  an  advance  of  sixpence  a  week.  William 
Yates'  eldest  child  was  a  girl  named  Ellen,  and  she 
very  soon  became  an  especial  favorite  with  the  young 
lodger.  On  returning  from  his  hard  day's  work  at 
''The  Ground,"  he  would  take  the  little  girl  upon  his 
knee,  and  say  to  her,  "  Nelly,  thou  bonny  little  dear, 
wilt  be  my  wife  ? "  to  which  the  child  would  readily 
answer,  "  Yes,"  as  any  child  would  do.  "  Then  I'll 
wait  for  thee,  Nelly;  I'll  wed  thee,  and  none  else." 
And  Robert  Peel  did  wait.  As  the  girl  grew  in 
beauty  toward  womanhood,  his  determination  to  wait 
for  her  was  strengthened  ;  and  after  the  lapse  of  ten 
years — years  of  close  application  to  business  and 
rapidly  increasing  prosperity — Robert  Peel  married 
Ellen  Yates,  when  she  had  completed  her  seventeenth 
year  ;  and  the  pretty  child,  whom  her  mother's  lodger 


WORTHY    EXAMPLES.  115 

and  father's  partner  had  nursed  upon  his  knee,  be- 
came Mrs.  Peel,  and  eventually  Lady  Peel,  the 
mother  of  the  future  Prime  Minister  of  England. 
Lady  Peel  was  a  noble  and  beautiful  woman, 
fitted  to  grace  any  station  in  life.  She  pos- 
sessed rare  powers  of  mind,  and  was,  in  every 
emergency,  the  high-souled  and  faithful  coun- 
sellor of  her  husband.  For  many  years  after  their 
marriage,  she  acted  as  his  amanuensis,  conducting  the 
principal  part  of  his  business  correspondence  ;  for  Mr. 
Peel  himself  was  an  indifferent,  and  almost  unintel- 
ligible writer.  She  died  in  1803,  on^y  three  years 
after  the  baronetcy  was  conferred  upon  her  husband. 
The  third  in  the  line  was  the  statesman  and  prime 
minister.  When  a  boy,  at  Drayton  Manor,  his  father 
was  accustomed  to  set  him  up  at  table  to  practice  ex- 
temporaneous speaking ;  and  he  early  accustomed 
him  to  repeat  as  much  of  the  Sunday  sermon  as  he 
could  carry  away  in  his  memory.  Little  progress 
was  made  at  first,  but,  by  steady  perseverance,  the 
habit  of  attention  soon  became  powerful,  and  the  ser- 
mon was  at  length  repeated  almost  verbatim.  When, 
afterward,  replying  in  succession  to  the  arguments  of 
his  parliamentary  opponents — an  art  in  which  he  was, 
perhaps,  unrivaled — it  was  little  surmised  that  the  ex- 
traordinary power  of  accurate  remembrance  which  he 
displayed  on  such  occasions  had  been  originally  ac- 
quired, while  under  the  discipline  of  his  father,  in  the 
parish  church  of  Drayton.  He  possessed  in  an  extra- 
ordinary degree  the  power  of  continuous  intellectual 
labor;  nor  did  he  spare  himself.  His  career,  indeed, 
presented  a  remarkable  example  of  how  much  a  man  of 
comparatively  moderate  powers  can  accomplish  by 


Il6  WORTHY    EXAMPLES. 

means  of  assiduous  application,  and  indefatigable  in- 
dustry. During  the  forty  years  that  he  held  a  seat  in 
Parliament,  his  labors  were  prodigious.  He  was  a  most 
conscientious  man,  and  whatever  he  undertook  to  do, 
he  did  thoroughly.  All  his  speeches  bear  evidence  of 
his  careful  study  of  everything  that  had  been  spoken 
or  written  on  the  subject  under  consideration.  He 
was  elaborate  almost  to  excess,  and  spared  no  pains 
to  adapt  himself  to  the  various  capacities  of  his 
audience.  Withal,  he  possessed  much  practical 
sagacity,  great  strength  of  purpose,  and  power  to 
direct  the  issues  of  action  with  steady  hand  and  eye. 
Another  example  of  a  similar  kind  is  found  in  the 
career  of  Lord  Brougham,  whose  indefatigable  indus- 
try became  proverbial.  His  public  labors  extended 
over  a  period  of  upward  of  sixty  years,  during 
which  he  ranged  over  many  fields — of  law,  litera- 
ture, politics,  and  science— and  achieved  distinc- 
tion in  them  all.  How  he  contrived  it,  has  been 
to  many  a  mystery.  Once,  when  Sir  Samuel 
Romilly  was  requested  to  undertake  some  new 
work,  he  excused  himself  by  saying  that  he  had 
no  time;  "But,"  he  added,  "go  with  it  to  that 
fellow  Brougham  ;  he  seems  to  have  time  for  every- 
thing." The  secret  of  it  was  that  he  never  left  a 
minute  unemployed  ;  withal,  he  possessed  a  constitu- 
tion of  iron.  When  arrived  at  an  age  at  which  most 
men  would  have  retired  from  the  world  to  enjoy  their 
hard-earned  leisure,  perhaps  to  doze  away  their  time 
in  an  easy-chair,  Lord  Brougham  commenced  and 
prosecuted  a  series  of  elaborate  investigations  into  the 
laws  of  light,  and  submitted  the  results  to  the  most  sci- 
entific audiences  that  Paris  and  London  could  muster. 


WORTHY    EXAMPLES.  I  17 

About  the  same  time,  he  was  passing  through  the 
press  his  admirable  sketches  of  the  "  Men  of  Science 
and  Literature  of  the  Reign  of  George  III,"  and 
taking  his  full  share  of  law  business  and  political 
discussions  in  the  House  of  Lords.  Sydney  Smith 
once  recommended  him  to  confine  himself  to  only 
the  transaction  of  so  much  business  as  three  strong 
men  could  get  through.  But  such  was  Brougham's 
love  of  work — long  become  a  habit — that  no  amount 
of  application  seems  to  have  been  too  great  for  him  ; 
and  such  was  his  love  of  excellence,  that  it  has  been 
said  of  him,  that  if  his  station  in  life  had  been  only 
that  of  a  shoeblack,  he  would  never  have  rested  satis- 
fied until  he  had  become  the  best  shoeblack  in 
England. 

Allusion  has  been  made  in  these  pages  to  James 
Watt,  the  most  conspicuous  among  the  many  names 
connected  with  the  development  and  improvement 
of  the  steam-engine.  Watt  was  one  of  the  most  in- 
dustrious of  men.  Even  when  a  boy,  Watt  found 
science  in  toys.  The  quadrants  lying  about  his 
father's  carpenter-shop  led  him  to  the  study  of  optics 
and  astronomy ;  his  ill  health  induced  him  to  pry  into 
the  secrets  of  physiology ;  and  his  solitary  walks 
through  the  country  attracted  him  to  the  study  of 
botany,  history,  and  antiquarianism.  While  carrying 
on  the  business  of  a  mathematical  instrument-maker, 
he  received  an  order  to  build  an  organ ;  and,  though 
without  any  ear  for  music,  he  undertook  the  study  of 
harmonics,  and  successfully  constructed  the  instru- 
ment. And,  in  like  manner,  when  the  little  model  of 
Newcomen's  steam-engine,  belonging  to  the  Univer- 
sity of  Glasgow,  was  placed  in  his  hands  for  repair, 


II 8  WORTHY    EXAMPLES. 

he  forthwith  set  himself  to  learn  all  that  was  then 
known  about  heat,  evaporation,  and  condensation — at 
the  same  time  plodding  his  way  in  mechanics  and  the 
science  of  construction — the  results  of  which  he  at 
length  embodied  in  the  condensing  steam-engine. 

For  ten  years  he  went  on  contriving  and  inventing, 
—with  little  hope  to  cheer  him, — with  a  fewfriends 
to  encourage  him, — struggling  with  difficulties,  and 
earning  but  a  slender  living  at  his  trade.  Even  when 
he  had  brought  his  engine  into  a  practical  working 
condition,  his  difficulties  seemed  to  be  as  far  from  an 
end  as  ever,  and  he  could  find  no  capitalist  to  join 
him  in  his  great  undertaking,  and  bring  the  invention 
to  a  successful  and  practical  issue.  He  went  on, 
meanwhile,  earning  bread  for  his  family  by  making 
and  selling  quadrants,  making  and  mending  fiddles, 
flutes,  and  other  musical  instruments,  measuring 
mason  work,  surveying  roads,  superintending  the  con- 
struction of  canals,  or  doing  anything  that  turned  up, 
and  offered  a  prospect  of  honest  gain.  At  length, 
Watt  found  a  fit  partner  in  another  eminent  leader 
of  industry,  Matthew  Boulton  of  Birmingham,  a  skil- 
ful, energetic,  and  far-seeing  man,  who  vigorously  un- 
dertook the  enterprise  of  introducing  the  condensing 
engine  into  general  use  as  a  working  power  ;  and  the 
success  of  both  is  now  a  matter  of  history. 

The  person  most  closely  identified  with  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  cotton  manufacture  in  Great  Britain, 
was  Richard  Arkwright.  His  parents  were  very  poor, 
and  .he  was  the  youngest  of  thirteen  children.  He 
was  never  at  school ;  the  only  education  he  received 
he  gave  himself,  and  to  the  last  he  was  only  able  to 
write  with  difficulty.  When  a  boy,  he  was  apprenticed 


JAMES   WATT  AND  HIS  TEA  KETTLE. 


WORTHY  EXAMPLES.  119 

to  a  barber,  and  after  learning  the  business,  he  set  up 
for  himself  in  Bolton,  in  i  760,  occupying  an  under- 
ground cellar,  over  which  he  put  the  sign,  "Come  to 
the  subterraneous  barber — he  shaves  for  a  penny." 
The  other  barbers  found  their  customers  leaving 
them,  and  reduced  their  prices  to  his  standard  ;  when 
Arkwright,  determined  to  push  his  trade,  announced 
his  determination  to  give  "A  clean  shave  for  a  half- 
penny." After  a  few  years  he  quitted  his  cellar,  and 
became  an  itinerant  dealer  in  hair.  At  that  time  wigs 
were  worn,  and  this  was  an  important  branch  of  the 
barbering  business.  He  went  about  buying  hair,  and 
was  accustomed  to  attend  the  hiring  fairs  throughout 
Lancashire,  resorted  to  by  young  women  for  the 
purpose  of  securing  their  long  tresses  ;  and  it  is  said 
that  in  negotiations  of  this  sort  he  was  very  success- 
ful. He  also  dealt  in  a  chemical  hair-dye,  which  he 
used  adroitly,  and  thereby  secured  a  considerable 
trade.  Being  of  a  mechanical  turn,  he  devoted  a 
good  deal  of  his  spare  time  to  contriving  models  of 
machines,  and,  like  many  self-taught  men  of  the  same 
bias,  he  endeavored  to  invent  perpetual  motion. 

He  followed  his  experiments  so  devotedly,  that  he 
neglected  his  business,  lost  the  little  money  he  had 
saved,  and  was  reduced  to  great  poverty.  His  wife— 
for  he  had  by  this  time  married — was  impatient  at 
what  she  conceived  to  be  a  wanton  waste  of  time  and 
money,  and,  in  a  moment  of  sudden  wrath,  she  seized 
upon  and  destroyed  his  models,  hoping  thus  to  re- 
move the  cause  of  the  family  privations.  Arkwright 
was  a  stubborn  and  enthusiastic  man,  and,  being  pro- 
voked by  his  wife,  he  never  forgave  her,  and  in 
consequence,  they  separated.  Later,  the  idea  of 


I2O  WORTHY    EXAMPLES. 

spinning  by  rollers  was  communicated  to  him,  and  he 
at  once  set  about  the  construction  of  a  machine  to 
carry  the  idea  into  practice,  but,  after  completing  and 
exhibiting  it,  he  was  compelled  to  change  his  resi- 
dence, on  account  of  the  ignorant  hostility  of  the 
people  in  the  town.  He  went,  accordingly,  to  Not- 
tingham, where  he  applied  to  some  of  the  local 
bankers  for  pecuniary  assistance,  and  the  Messrs. 
Wright  consented  to  advance  him  a  sum  of  money, 
on  condition  of  sharing  in  the  profits  of  the  invention. 
The  machine,  however,  not  being  perfected  as  soon  as 
they  had  anticipated,  the  bankers  recommended  Ark- 
wright  to  apply  to  Messrs.  Strutt  and  Need,  the 
former  of  whom  was  the  ingenious  inventor  and 
patentee  of  the  stocking  frame.  Mr.  Strutt  was 
quick  to  perceive  the  merits  of  the  invention,  and  a 
partnership  was  entered  into  with  Arkwright,  whose 
road  to  fortune  was  now  clear.  The  patent  was 
secured  in  the  name  of  "  Richard  Arkwright  of 
Nottingham,  clockmaker ;  "  and  it  is  a  remarkable  fact 
that  it  was  taken  out  in  1 769,  the  very  same  year  in 
which  Watt  secured  the  patent  for  his  steam-engine. 
A  cotton-mill  was  first  erected  at  Nottingham,  driven 
by  horses,  and  another  was  shortly  after  built  on  a 
much  larger  scale,  at  Cromford,  in  Derbyshire,  turned 
by  a  water-wheel,  from  which  circumstance  the 
spinning-machine  came  to  be  called  the  water-frame. 
Arkwright  was  a  tremendous  worker,  and  a  man  of 
marvelous  energy,  ardor,  and  application  in  business. 
At  one  period  of  his  life  he  was  usually  engaged  in 
the  severe  and  continuous  labors  involved  by  the  or- 
ganization and  conduct  of  his  numerous  manufact- 
ories, from  four  in  the  morning  until  nine  at  night. 


WORTHY    EXAMPLES.  121 

At  fifty  years  of  age  he  set  to  work  to  learn  English 
grammar,  and  to  improve  himself  in  writing  and 
orthography.  When  he  traveled,  to  save  time,  he 
went  at  great  speed,  drawn  by  four  horses.  Be  it  for 
good  or  for  evil,  Arkwright  was  the  founder  in 
England  of  the  modern  factory  system. 

Equally  valuable  is  the  example  of  the  immortal 
Dr.  Edward  Jenner,  the  discoverer  of  vaccination  as  a 
preventive  of  small-pox.  This  terrible  disease  had 
raged  for  a  long  time,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  way 
of  arresting  its  violence.  Jenner  was  a  youth,  pur- 
suing his  studies  at  Sudbury,  when  his  attention  was 
arrested  by  the  casual  observation,  made  by  a  country 
girl,  who  came  to  his  master's  shop  for  advice.  The 
small-pox  was  mentioned,  when  the  girl  said  :  "I 
can't  take  that  disease,  for  I  have  had  cow-pox." 
The  observation  immediately  riveted  Jenner's  at- 
tention, and  he  forthwith  set  about  inquiring  and 
making  observations  on  the  subject.  His  pro- 
fessional friends,  to  whom  he  mentioned  his  views  as 
to  the  prophylactic  virtues  of  cow-pox,  laughed  at 
him,  and  even  threatened  to  expel  him  from  their 
society,  if  he  persisted  in  harassing  them  with  the 
subject.  In  London  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  study 
under  John  Hunter,  to  whom  he  communicated  his 
views.  The  advice  of  the  great  anatomist  was  thor- 
oughly characteristic:  "Don't  think,  but  try;  be 
patient ;  be  accurate."  Jenner's  courage  was  greatly 
supported  by  the  advice,  which  conveyed  to  him  the 
true  art  of  philosophical  investigation.  He  went 
back  to  the  country  to  practice  his  profession,  and 
carefully  to  make  observations  and  experiments, 
which  he  continued  to  pursue  for  a  period  of  twenty 


WORTHY    EXAMPLES. 

years.  His  faith  in  his 'discovery  was  so  implicit  that 
he  vaccinated  his  own  son  on  three  several  occasions. 
At  length  he  published  his  views  in  a  quarto  of  about 
seventy  pages,  in  which  he  gave  the  details  of  twenty- 
three  cases  of  successful  vaccination  of  individuals,  to 
whom  it  was  found  afterward  impossible  to  communi- 
cate the  small-pox,  either  by  contagion  or  inoculation. 
It  was  in  1 798  that  this  treatise  was  published,  though 
he  had  been  working  out  his  ideas  as  long  before  as 
1775,  when  they  began  to  assume  a  definite  form. 

How  was  the  discovery  received  ?  First  with  indif- 
ference, then  with  active  hostility.  He  proceeded  to 
London,  to  exhibit  to  the  profession  the  process  of 
vaccination,  and  its  successful  results  ;  but  not  a  single 
doctor  could  be  got  to  make  a  trial  of  it,  and,  after 
fruitlessly  waiting  for  nearly  three  months,  Jenner  re- 
turned to  his  native  village.  He  was  even  carica- 
tured and  abused  for  his  attempt  to  "bestialize"  his 
species  by  the  introduction  into  their  systems  of  dis- 
eased matter  from  the  cow's  udder.  Cobbett  was 
one  of  his  most  furious  assailants.  Vaccination  was 
denounced  from  the  pulpit  as  "  diabolical."  It  was 
averred  that  vaccinated  children  became  "  ox-faced  ;  " 
that  abscesses  broke  out,  to  "  indicate  sprouting 
horns ; "  and  that  the  countenance  was  gradually 
"  transmitted  into  the  visage  of  a  cow,  the  voice  into 
the  bellowing  of  bulls."  Vaccination,  however,  was  a 
truth,  and,  notwithstanding  the  violence  of  the  oppo- 
sition, belief  in  it  spread  slowly.  In  one  village, 
where  a  gentleman  tried  to  introduce  the  practice, 
the  first  persons  who  permitted  themselves  to  be  vac- 
cinated were  absolutely  pelted,  and  were  driven  into 
their  houses,  if  they  appeared  out  of  doors.  Two 


GREAT    ARTISTS.  123 

ladies  of  title — Lady  Ducie  and  the  Countess  of 
Berkeley — to  their  honor  be  it  remembered — had  the 
courage  to  vaccinate  their  own  children,  and  the 
prejudices  of  the  day  were  at  once  broken  through. 
The  medical  profession  gradually  came  round,  and 
there  were  several  who  even  sought  to  rob  Dr. 
Jenner  of  the  merit  of  the  discovery,  when  its  vast 
importance  came  to  be  recognized.  Jenner's  cause 
at  last  triumphed,  and  he  was  publicly  honored  and 
rewarded. 

He  was  invited  to  settle  in  London,  and  told  that 
he  might  easily  command  a  practice  of  ,£10,000  a 
year.  His  answer  was  :  "  No  !  In  the  morning  of 
my  days  I  sought  the  sequestered  and  lowly  paths  of 
life,  and  now,  in  the  evening,  it  is  not  meet  for  me  to 
hold  myself  up  as  an  object  for  fortune  and  fame." 
During  Jenner's  lifetime,  the  practice  of  vaccination 
had  been  adopted  all  over  the  civilized  world,  and 
when  he  died,  his  title  as  benefactor  of  his  kind  was 
recognized  far  and  wide.  Cuvier  said  :  "If  this  had 
been  the  only  discovery  of  the  epoch,  it  would  have 
made  it  illustrious  forever." 

GREAT  ARTISTS. 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  such  a  believer  in  the 
force  of  industry,  that  he  held  that  "  excellence  in 
art,  however  expressed — by  genius,  taste,  or  the  gift 
of  heaven — may  be  acquired."  Writing  to  Barry,  he 
said  :  "  Whoever  is  resolved  to  excel  in  painting,  or, 
indeed,  in  any  other  art,  must  bring  all  his  mind  to 
bear  upon  that  one  object  from  the  moment  that  he 
rises  till  he  goes  to  bed."  And  on  another  occasion 


124  GREAT    ARTISTS. 

he  said  :  "  Those  who  ^.re  resolved  to  excel,  must  go 
to  their  work,  willing  or  unwilling,  morning,  noon,  and 
night ;  they  will  find  it  no  play,  but  very  hard  labor." 
And  the  lives  of  great  artists  go  to  show  that  the 
most  of  them  had  to  force  their  way  upward  in  the 
face  of  manifold  obstructions.  Their  success  was 
achieved  by  no  luck  or  chance,  but  by  sheer  hard 
work. 

Like  Reynolds,  Michael  Angelo  was  also  a  believer 
in  the  power  of  labor.  He  was,  himself,  one  of  the 
greatest  of  workers,  and  attributed  (though  with 
doubtful  correctness)  his  power  of  studying  for  a 
greater  number  of  hours  than  others,  to  his  spare 
habits  of  living.  A  little  bread  and  wine  was  all  he  re- 
quired for  the  chief  part  of  the  day,  when  employed 
at  his  work ;  and  very  frequently  he  rose  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  to  resume  his  labors.  On  these 
occasions  it  was  his  practice  to  fix  the  candle,  by  the 
light  of  which  he  worked,  on  the  summit  of  a  paste- 
board cap  which  he  wore.  Sometimes  he  was  too 
wearied  to  undress,  and  he  slept  in  his  clothes,  ready 
to  spring  to  his  work*  as  soon  as  refreshed  by  sleep. 
He  had  a  favorite  device  of  an  old  man  in  a  go-cart, 
with  an  hour-glass  upon  it,  bearing  the  inscription  : 
"  Still  I  am  learning  !  " 

Titian,  also,  was  an  indefatigable  worker.  His 
celebrated  "  Pietro  Martyre"  was  eight  years  in 
hand,  and  his  "  Last  Supper,"  seven.  In  his  letter  to 
Charles  V,,  he  said  :  "  I  send  your  Majesty  the  '  Last 
Supper/  after  working  at  it  almost  daily  for  seven 
years."  Few  think  of  the  patient  labor  and  long 
training  involved  in  the  greatest  works  of  the  artist. 
They  seem  easy,  and  quickly  accomplished,  yet  with 


GREAT    ARTISTS.  125 

how  great  difficulty  has  this  ease  been  acquired. 
"You  charge  me  fifty  sequins,"  said  the  Venetian 
nobleman  to  the  sculptor,  "  for  a  bust  that  cost  you 
only  ten  days'  labor."  "  You  forget,"  said  the  artist, 
"that  I  have  been  thirty  years  learning  to  make  that 
bust  in  ten  days."  Once,  when  Domenichino  was 
blamed  for  his  slowness  in  finishing  a  picture  which 
was  bespoken,  he  made  answer  :  "  I  am  continually 
painting  it  within  myself."  It  was  eminently  charac- 
teristic of  the  industry  of  the  late  Sir  Augustus 
Callcott,  that  he  made  not  fewer  than  forty  sep- 
arate sketches  in  the  composition  of  his  famous 
picture  of  "  Rochester."  It  may  seem  a  simple  affair 
to  play  upon  a  violin,  yet  what  a  long  and  laborious 
practice  it  requires  !  Giardini  said  to  a  youth  who 
asked  him  how  long  it  would  take  to  learn  it : 
"Twelve  hours  a  day  for  twenty  years  together." 

The  same  honest  and  persistent  industry  was 
throughout  distinctive  of  the  career  of  David  Wilkie. 
The  son  of  a  poor  Scotch  minister,  he  gave  early  in- 
dications of  an  artistic  turn,  and,  though  he  was  a 
negligent  and  inapt  scholar,  he  was  a  sedulous  drawer 
of  faces  and  figures.  A  silent  boy,  he  already  dis- 
played that  quiet,  concentrated  energy  of  character 
which  distinguished  him  through  life.  He  was 
always  on  the  lookout  for  a  good  opportunity  to  draw, 
and  the  walls  of  the  manse,  or  the  smooth  sand  by  the 
river  side,  came  alike  convenient  for  his  purpose. 
But  his  progress  was  slow.  He  displayed  none  of 
the  eccentric  humor  and  fitful  application  of  many 
youths  who  conceive  themselves  geniuses,  but  kept 
up  the  routine  of  steady  application  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  himself  was  afterward  accustomed  to  attribute 


126  GREAT    ARTISTS. 

his  success  to  his  dogged  perseverance,  rather  than 
to  any  higher  innate  power.  "The  single  element," 
he  said,  "  in  all  the  progressive  movements  of  my 
pencil,  was  persevering  industry."  The  prices  which 
his  works  realized  were  not  great,  for  he  bestowed  so 
much  time  and  labor  upon  them,  that  his  earnings 
continued  small  for  many  years.  Every  picture  was 
carefully  studied  and  elaborated  beforehand  ;  nothing 
was  struck  off  at  a  heat.  Many  occupied  him  for 
years,  touching,  retouching,  and  improving  them,  until 
they  finally  passed  out  of  his  hands.  As  with  Rey- 
nolds, his  motto  was:  "Work!  work!  work!"  and, 
like  him,  he  expressed  great  dislike  for  talking  artists. 
Talkers  may  sow,  but  the  silent  reap.  "  Let  us  be 
doing  something,"  was  his  oblique  mode  of  rebuking 
the  loquacious,  and  admonishing  the  idle. 

Among  such  was  his  friend  Haydon,  who  was 
always  talking  so  big  about  his  art,  but  doing  so  little 
to  advance  it.  Haydon,  perhaps,  had  more  of  what  is 
called  "genius"  than  Wilkie,  but  he  had  no  persist- 
ency, no  work  in  him.  The  one,  fitful  and  irregular 
in  his  habits,  aimed  at  an  unattainable  idea ;  the 
other,  sedulously  cultivating  his  peculiar  and  original 
talent,  aimed  steadily  at  the  success  which  was  within 
his  reach,  and  secured  it.  Haydon's  career  was  both 
warning  and  example  to  the  gifted.  He  was  one  of 
a  numerous  class  who  are  ready  to  cry  out,  without 
sufficient  reason,  against  the  blindness  and  ingratitude 
of  the  world.  But,  as  in  most  of  such  cases,  Haydon's 
worst  enemy  was  himself.  Half  the  time  spent  in 
working,  that  he  spent  in  complaining,  would  have 
gone  far  toward  making  him  the  great  man  that  he 
aimed  to  be.  While  he  went  on  holding  himself 


GREAT   ARTISTS.  127 

forth  as  a  persecuted  genius,  Wilkie,  with  the  sim- 
plicity that  belongs  to  true  genius,  made  no  claim 
whatever,  but  worked  hard,  and  did  his  best,  and  the 
world  did  not  fail  to  recognize  his  merits. 

Turner,  whom  Ruskin  considers  one  of  England's 
greatest  landscape  painters,  was  intended  by  his 
father  for  his  own  trade  of  a  barber,  until,  one  day, 
a  sketch  which  the  boy  had  made  for  a  coat  of  arms 
on  a  silver  salver,  attracted  the  notice  of  a  customer 
whom  his  father  was  shaving.  The  man  urged  the 
father  to  allow  the  boy  to  follow  his  bias,  and  he  was 
eventually  permitted  to  do  so.  But,  like  all  young 
artists,  Turner  had  many  difficulties  to  encounter, 
and  they  were  all  the  greater  that  Turner's  circum- 
stances were  so  straitened.  But  he  was  always 
willing  to  work,  and  to  take  pains  with  his  work,  no 
matter  how  humble  the  labor  might  be.  He  was  glad 
to  hire  himself  out,  at  half  a  crown  a  night,  to  wash 
in  skies  in  India  ink  upon  other  people's  drawings, 
getting  his  supper  into  the  bargain.  Thus  he  earned 
money,  and  acquired  expertness.  Then  he  took  to 
illustrating  guide-books,  almanacs,  and  any  sort  of 
books  that  wanted  cheap  frontispieces.  "  What  could 
I  have  done  better?"  said  he  afterward;  "it  was 
first-rate  practice."  He  did  everything  carefully  and 
conscientiously,  never  slurring  over  his  work  because 
he  was  ill-remunerated  for  it.  He  aimed  at  learning 
as  well  as  living,  always  doing  his  best,  and  never 
leaving  a  drawing  without  having  made  a  step  in  ad- 
vance upon  his  previous  work.  A  man  who  thus 
labored  was  sure  to  do  much,  and  his  advance  in 
power  and  grasp  of  thought  was,  to  use  Ruskin's 
words,  "  as  steady  as  the  increasing  light  of  sunrise." 


128  GREAT    ARTISTS. 

But  Turner's  genius  needs  no  panegyric  ;  the  great 
works  bequeathed  by  him  to  the  nation,  will  ever  be 
his  best  monument,  and  the  most  lasting  memorial  of 
his  fame. 

Those  who  have  visited  Edinburgh,  Scotland,  can- 
not fail  to  have  noticed  the  beautiful  monument 
erected  by  the  city  to  the  memory  of  Scotland's 
greatest  author,  Sir  Walter  Scott.  But  few  know  the 
touching  and  pathetic  career  of  George  Kemp,  whose 
architectural  genius  designed  it.  He  was  the  son  of 
a  poor  shepherd,  who  pursued  his  calling  on  the 
southern  slope  of  Pentland  Hills.  Amid  that  pastoral 
solitude,  the  boy  had  no  opportunity  of  enjoying  the 
contemplation  of  beautiful  works  of  art.  It  hap- 
pened, however,  that  in  his  tenth  year  he  was  sent  on 
a  message  to  Roslin,  by  the  farmer  for  whom  his 
father  herded  sheep,  and  the  sight  of  the  beautiful 
castle  and  chapel  there,  seems  to  have  made  a  vivid 
and  enduring  impression  on  his  mind.  Probably  to 
enable  him  to  indulge  his  love  of  architectural  con- 
struction, the  boy  besought  his  father  to  let  him  be  a 
joiner,  and  he  was  accordingly  apprenticed  to  a 
neighboring  village  carpenter.  Having  served  his 
time,  he  went  to  Galashiels  to  seek  work,  doing  the 
journey  on  foot.  As  he  was  plodding  along  the 
valley  of  the  Tweed,  with  his  tools  upon  his  back,  a 
carriage  overtook  him  near  Elibank  Tower,  and  the 
coachman,  doubtless  at  the  suggestion  of  his  master, 
who  rode  inside,  having  asked  the  youth  how  far  he 
had  to  walk,  and  learning  he  was  on  his  way  to 
Galashiels,  invited  him  to  mount  the  box  beside  him, 
and  thus  to  ride  thither.  It  turned  out  that  the 
kindly  gentleman  inside  was  no  other  than  Sir  Walter 


GREAT    ARTISTS.  129 

Scott,  then  traveling  on  his  official  duty  as  Sheriff  of 
Selkirkshire. 

Whilst  working  at  his  trade  at  Galashiels,  Kemp 
had  frequent  opportunities  of  visiting  Melrose,  Dry- 
burgh,  and  Jedburgh  Abbeys,  and  studying  them 
carefully.  Inspired  by  his  love  of  architecture,  he 
next  worked  his  way  as  a  carpenter,  over  the  greater 
part  of  the  north  of  England,  never  omitting  an  op- 
portunity of  inspecting  and  making  sketches  of  any 
fine  Gothic  building.  We  next  find  him  in  Glasgow, 
where  he  remained  four  years,  studying  the  fine 
cathedral  there  during  his  spare  time.  In  1824  he 
formed  the  design  of  traveling  over  Europe,  and  sup- 
porting himself  by  his  trade,  for  the  purpose  of  study- 
ing its  well-known  cathedrals.  He  commenced  at 
Boulogne,  and  from  thence  proceeded,  by  Abbeville 
and  Beauvais,  to  Paris,  spending  a  few  weeks,  making 
drawings  and  studies  in  each  place.  His  skill  as  a 
mechanic,  and  especially  his  knowledge  of  mill-work, 
readily  secured  him  employment  wherever  he  went, 
arid  he  was  thus  enabled  to  choose  his  site  of  employ- 
ment, which  was  invariably  in  the  neighborhood  of 
some  fine  old  Gothic  structure,  in  studying  which  he 
occupied  his  leisure  hours. 

After  a  year's  working,  travel,  and  study  abroad,  he 
was  abruptly  summoned  home  by  family  affairs,  and 
returned  to  Scotland.  He  continued  his  studies,  and 
became  a  proficient  in  drawing  and  perspective. 
Melrose  was  his  favorite  ruin,  and  he  produced  sev- 
eral elaborate  drawings  of  the  building,  one  of  which, 
exhibiting  it  in  a  "  restored  "  state,  was  afterward  en- 
graved. He  also  obtained  some  employment  as  a 
modeler  of  architectural  designs,  and  afterward  made 


I3O  GREAT    MUSICIANS. 

drawings  for  a  work  commenced  by  an  Edinburgh 
engraver,  after  the  plan  of  Britton's  "  Cathedral  An- 
tiquities." This  was  a  task  most  congenial  to  his 
tastes,  and  he  labored  at  it  with  an  enthusiasm  which 
insured  its  rapid  advance,  walking  on  fooiT  for  this  ', 
purpose  over  half  Scotland,  and  living  as  an  ordinary 
mechanic,  whilst  executing  drawings  which  would 
have  done  credit  to  the  greatest  masters  in  the  art. 
The  projector  of  the  work  having  died  suddenly,  its  ' 
publication  was  interfered  with,  and  Kemp  sought 
other  employment.  Few  knew  of  the  genius  of  this 
man,  for  he  was  exceedingly  taciturn,  and  habitually 
modest,  when  the  Committee  of  the  Scott  Monument 
offered  a  prize  for  the  best  design.  The  competitors 
were  numerous,  including  some  of  the  greatest  names 
in  classical  architecture  ;  but  the  design  unanimously 
selected  was  that  of  George  Kemp,  then  working  at 
Kilwinning  Abbey,  in  Ayrshire,  many  miles  off,  when 
the  letter  reached  him,  intimating  the  decision  of  the 
committee.  Poor  Kemp  !  Shortly  after  this,  he  met 
an  untimely  death,  and  did  not  live  to  see  the  first 
result  of  his  indefatigable  industry  and  self-culture 
embodied  in  stone — one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
appropriate  memorials  ever  erected  to  literary  genius. 

, 

GREAT  MUSICIANS. 

The  same  spirit  of  work,  and  the  same  necessity 
for  industry  and  application,  is  found  exemplified 
among  the  lives  of  musicians.  Thus,  Handel  was  an 
indefatigable  and  constant  worker  ;  he  was  never  cast 
down  by  defeat,  but  his  energy  seemed  to  increase 
the  more  that  adversity  struck  him.  When  a  prey 


GREAT    MUSICIANS. 

to  his  mortification  as  an  insolvent  debtor,  he  did  not 
give  way  for  a  moment,  but  in  one  year  produced  his 
"  Saul,"  "  Israel,"  the  music  for  Dryden's  "  Ode,"  his 
"  Twelve  Grand  Concertos,"  and  the  opera  of 
"Jupiter  in  Argos,"  among  the  finest  of  his  works. 
As  his  biographer  said  of  him,  "He  braved  every- 
thing, and,  by  his  unaided  self,  accomplished  the 
work  of  twelve  men." 

Haydn,  speaking  of  his  art,  said  :  "  It  consists  in 
taking  up  a  subject,  and  pursuing  it."  "  Work,"  said 
Mozart,  "  is  my  chief  pleasure."  Beethoven's  favorite 
maxim  was:  "The  barriers  are  not  erected  which 
can  say  to  aspiring  talents  and  industry,  '  Thus  far, 
and  no  farther.' '  When  Moscheles  submitted  his 
score  of  "  Fidelio  "  for  the  pianoforte,  to  Beethoven, 
the  latter  found  written  at  the  bottom  of  the  last 
page:  "  Finis,  with  God's  help."  Beethoven  imme- 
diately wrote  underneath  :  "  O  man  !  help  thyself  !  " 
This  was  the  motto  of  his  artistic  life.  John  Sebas- 
tian Bach  said  of  himself :  "  I  was  industrious,  and 
whoever  is  equally  sedulous,  will  be  equally  success- 
ful." But  there  is  no  doubt  that  Bach  was  born  with 
a  passion  for  music,  which  formed  the  mainspring  of 
his  industry,  and  was  the  true  secret  of  his  success. 
When  a  mere  youth,  his  elder  brother,  wishing  to 
turn  his  abilities  in  another  direction,  destroyed  a 
collection  of  studies  which  the  young  Sebastian, 
being  denied  candles,  had  copied  by  moonlight, 
proving  the  strong  natural  bent  of  the  boy's  genius. 
Of  Meyerbeer,  Bayle  thus  wrote  from  Milan  in  1820 : 
"  He  is  a  man  of  some  talent,  but  no  genius  ;  he  lives 
solitary,  working  fifteen  hours  a  day  at  music." 
Years  passed,  and  Meyerbeer's  hard  work  fully 


132  GREAT    AUTHORS. 

brought  out  his  genius,  as  displayed  in  his  "  Roberto," 
"  Huguenots,"  "  Prophete,"  and  other  works,  confess- 
edly among  the  greatest  operas  which  have  been 
produced  in  modern  times. 

GREAT  AUTHORS. 

• 

The  mere  drudgery  which  some  literary  men  are 
said  to  have  gone  through  with,  in  executing  their 
plans,  almost  staggers  belief.  To  acquire  a  polished 
style,  Lord  Chesterfield  for  many  years  wrote  down 
every  brilliant  passage  he  met  with  in  his  reading, 
and  either  translated  it  into  French,  or,  if  it  was  in  a 
foreign  language,  into  English.  A  certain  elegance 
became  at  last,  he  says,  habitual  to  him,  and  it  would 
have  given  him  more  trouble  to  express  himself  in- 
elegantly than  ever  he  had  taken  to  avoid  the  defect. 
To  gain  a  mastery  of  language,  Lord  Chatham  not 
only  used  to  translate  Demosthenes  into  English,  but 
also  read  Bailey's  folio  dictionary  twice  through  with 
discriminating  attention.  For  the  same  purpose,  his 
son,  William  Pitt,  before  he  was  twenty  years  old, 
had  read  the  works  of  nearly  all  the  classic  authors, 
many  of  them  aloud,  dwelling  sometimes  for  hours 
on  striking  passages  of  an  orator  or  historian, 
noticing  their  turns  of  expression,  and  trying  to  dis- 
cover the  secret  of  their  charm  or  power.  The 
"  silver-tongued  "  Mansfield  not  only  translated  all  of 
Cicero's  orations  into  English,  but  also  translated  the 
English  orations  into  Latin. 

Butler,  who  exhibits  in  his  "  Hudibras  "  an  amount 
of  wit,  comic  illustration,  and  curious  and  out-of-the- 
way  learning  that  is  absolutely  portentous,  kept  a 


GREAT   AUTHORS.  133 

commonplace  book,  in  which,  according  to  Dr.  John- 
son, he  had  deposited  for  many  years,  not  such  events 
or  precepts  as  are  gathered  by  reading,  but  such  re- 
marks, similitudes,  allusions,  assemblages,  or  infer- 
ences as  occasion  prompted,  or  inclination  produced 
—those  thoughts  which  were  generated  in  his  own 
mind,  and  might  be  usefully  applied  to  some  future 
purpose.  "  Such,"  adds  Johnson,  "  is  the  labor  of 
those  who  write  for  immortality."  Before  the  great 
essayist  himself  began  the  Rambler,  he  had  col- 
lected in  a  commonplace  book  a  great  variety  of 
hints  for  essays  on  different  subjects.  Addison 
amassed  three  folios  of  manuscript  materials  before 
he  began  the  Spectator.  The  papers  in  that  periodi- 
cal, like  most  essays  which  have  survived  the  changes 
of  time,  and  the  caprice  of  fashion,  were  simply  the 
form  in  which  their  author  chose  to  impart  to  the 
world  thoughts  which  had  long  been  shaping  and 
clothing  themselves  with  words  in  his  own  mind. 

Jean  Paul  Richter  did  the  same  thing.  For  years 
he  went  on  reading,  studying,  and  observing,  making 
great  books  of  extracts  for  future  use,  which  he  called 
his  quarries.  These  note-books  contained  a  kind  of 
repertory  of  all  the  sciences ;  and  he  also  carefully 
noted  down  his  daily  observations  of  living  nature. 
The  great  Catholic  writer,  De  Maistre,  for  more  than 
thirty  years  noted  down  whatever  he  met  with  of 
striking  interest  in  his  reading,  accompanying  his  ex- 
tracts with  comments ;  and  he  also  placed  in  the 
same  "  immense  volumes,"  those  "  thoughts  of  the 
moment,  those  sudden  illuminations,  which  are  ex- 
tinguished without  result,  if  the  flash  is  not  made 
permanent  by  writing."  Hume  toiled  thirteen  hours 


134  GREAT    AUTHORS. 

a  day  while  preparing  his  History  of  England.  Lord 
Bacon,  notwithstanding  the  fertility  of  his  mind, 
economized  his  thoughts,  as  the  many  manuscripts 
he  left,  entitled  "  Sudden  Thoughts  Set  Down  for 
Use,"  abundantly  testify.  Erskine  made  numerous 
extracts  from  Burke,  of  whom  he  was  an  intense  ad- 
mirer ;  and  Lord  Eldon  copied  Coke  upon  Littleton 
twice,  re-reading  that  crabbed  work  till  his  whole 
mind  was  saturated  with  its  lore  and  spirit.  Southey 
was  unwearied  in  his  efforts  to  prepare  himself  to 
write.  Not  content  with  a  mere  reference  in  a  table- 
book,  whenever  he  met  with  anything  available  in  his 
reading,  he  marked  the  passage  with  his  pencil,  and 
it  was  transcribed,  docketed,  and  deposited  in  an 
array  of  pigeon-holes. 

Heyne,  the  great  German  classicist,  shelled  the 
peas  for  his  dinner  with  one  hand,  while  he  annotated 
Tibullus  with  the  other.  Matthew  Hale,  while  a  stu- 
dent of  law,  studied  sixteen  hours  a  day.  Sir  Thomas 
More  and  Bishops  Jewell  and  Burnett  began  studying 
every  morning  at  four  o'clock  ;  Paley  rose  at  five  ;  Gib- 
bon was  hard  at  work,  the  year  round,  at  six.  Burke 
was  the  most  laborious  and  indefatigable  of  human  be- 
ings ;  Pascal  killed  himself  by  study,  or  rather,  by 
study  without  exercise;  Cicero  narrowly  escaped  death 
from  the  same  cause;  Hooker,  Barrow,  and  Jeremy 
Taylor  were  industrious  scholars  ;  Milton  kept  to  his 
books  as  regularly  as  a  merchant  or  an  attorney. 
"  My  morning  haunts,"  proudly  says  the  latter,  in 
one  of  the  few  passages  in  which  he  gives  us  a  peep 
into  his  private  life,  "  are  where  they  should  be — at 
home  ;  not  sleeping,  or  concocting  the  surfeits  of  an 
irregular  feast,  but  up  and  stirring." 


GREAT    AUTHORS.  135 

No  man  appears  to  have  written  with  more  ease 
than  Dickens  ;  yet  a  published  letter  of  his  shows 
that,  when  he  was  brooding  over  a  new  book,  his 
whole  soul  was  "  possessed,"  haunted,  spirit-driven  by 
one  idea ;  and  he  used  to  go  wandering  about  at 
night  in  the  strangest  places,  seeking  rest,  and  finding 
none  till  he  was  delivered.  When  that  little  Christ- 
mas book,  The  Chimes,  was  about  to  rise  from  the 
ocean  depths  of  his  thought,  he  shut  himself  up  for  a 
month,  close  and  tight,  till  all  his  affections  and  pas- 
sions got  twined  and  knotted  up  in  it,  and,  long  ere 
he  reached  the  end,  he  became  "  haggard  as  a  mur- 
derer." It  is  said  that,  on  being  requested  to  read, 
at  his  public  recitations,  a  new  selection  from  his 
writings,  he  replied  that  he  had  not  time  to  prepare 
himself,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  reading  a  piece 
once  a  day  for  six  months  before  reciting  it  in  public. 
That  the  author  of  David  Copperfield  had  little  faith 
in  improvisations,  is  evident  from  the  following 
golden  words  :  "  The  one  serviceable,  safe,  certain,  re- 
munerative, attainable  quality  in  every  study,  and 
every  pursuit,  is  the  quality  of  attention.  My  own 
invention  or  imagination,  such  as  it  is,  I  can  most 
truthfully  assure  you,  would  never  have  served  me  as 
it  has,  but  for  the  habit  of  commonplace,  humble, 
patient,  daily,  toiling,  drudging  attention." 

Addison  wore  out  the  patience  of  his  printer.  He 
would  often  stop  the  press  to  insert  a  new  preposi- 
tion. Gibbon  wrote  out  his  autobiography,  a  model 
of  its  kind,  nine  times,  before  he  could  satisfy  himself. 
Hazlitt  tells  us  that  he  was  assured  by  one  who 
knew,  that  Burke's  Letter  to  a  Noble  Lord,  the  most 
rapid,  impetuous,  glancing,  and  sportive  of  all  his 


136  GREAT   AUTHORS. 

works,  was  returned  to  the  printing  office  so  com- 
pletely blotted  over  with  alterations,  that  the  compos- 
itors refused  to  correct  it  as  it  was,  took  the  whole 
matter  to  pieces,  and  reset  the  copy.  Hazlitt  himself 
spent  so  many  weary  years  before  he  could  wreak  his 
thoughts  upon  expression,  that  he  almost  despaired 
of  ever  succeeding  as  an  author.  John  Foster  was  a 
most  painfully  laborious  writer.  He  tells  us  that,  in 
revising  one  of  his  essays,  his  principle  was  to  treat 
no  page,  sentence,  or  word  with  the  smallest  cere- 
mony, but  "to  hack,  split,  twist,  prune,  pull  up 
by  the  roots,  or  practice  any  other  severity  on  what- 
ever he  did  not  like."  The  consequence  was  "alter- 
ations to  the  amount,  very  likely,  of  several 
thousands."  When  Chalmers,  after  a  visit  to  Lon- 
don, was  asked  what  Foster  was  about,  he  replied  : 
"  Hard  at  it,  at  the  rate  of  a  line  a  week." 

Even  the  light,  facile  verse  of  Tom  Moore  was  the 
efflorescence  of  deep  strata  of  erudition  ;  a  quaint 
piece  of  learning  often  blossomed  into  a  song,  and 
knowledge  gathered  out  of  scores  of  folios  bloomed 
into  whole  wildernesses  of  beauty.  Washington 
Irving  tells  us  that  Moore  used  to  compose  his 
poetry  while  walking  up  and  down  a  gravel  walk  in 
his  garden,  and  when  he  had  a  line,  a  couplet,  or  a 
stanza  polished  to  his  mind,  he  would  go  to  a  little 
summer-house  near  by  and  write  it  down.  Ten  lines 
a  day  he  thought  good  work,  and  he  would  keep  the 
little  poem  by  him  for  weeks,  waiting  for  a  single 
word.  Some  of  his  broadest  squibs  cost  him  whole 
weeks  of  inquiry.  Montesquieu,  speaking  of  one  part 
of  his  writings,  said  to  a  friend  :  "  You  will  read  it  in 
a  few  hours ;  but  I  assure  you  it  cost  me  so  much 


GREAT   AUTHORS.  137 

labor,  that  it  has  whitened  my  hair,"  thus  testifying 
to  the  amount  of  brain  labor  devoted  to  his  efforts. 

The  ductility  of  language  in  the  hands  of  Haw- 
thorne surprises  and  delights  every  cultivated  reader. 
But  for  his  lately  published  Note  Books,  which  betray 
the  secret  of  his  art — reveal  the  laws  by  which  his 
genius  wrought — we  might  fancy  him  an  exception 
to  the  rule,  that  intense  labor  is  the  price  of  all  high 
excellence.  We  find  him  in  these,  not  trusting  to  in- 
spirations, but  day  by  day,  through  every  month  and 
every  year,  patiently  jotting  down  every  random 
thought  that  chanced  to  stray  into  his  mind,  pinion- 
ing every  hint  in  ink,  securing  every  fact  or  fancy 
that  may  possibly  serve  as  material  for  or  adornment 
of,  some  future  work.  Not  one  of  his  books  was 
flung  off  from  the  top  of  his  mind  at  a  white  heat. 
We  find,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  was  by  condensing 
into  a  chapter,  and  sometimes  into  a  sentence,  the 
fruits  of  months  of  waiting  and  watching,  hints  by  the 
wayside,  and  stray  suggestions  followed  up  and 
wrought  out,  moonlight  meditations,  and  flashes  of 
illumination  from  electric  converse  with  congenial 
minds,  that  he  wove  his  spells,  so  weird,  so  dark,  and 
so  potent. 

It  is  said  that  a  rival  playwright  once  jeered  at 
Euripides,  because  he  had  taken  three  days  to  com- 
pose five  lines,  whilst  he  had  dashed  off  five  hundred  in 
the  same  time.  "  Yes,"  was  the  just  retort ;  "  but  your 
five  hundred  lines  in  three  days  will  be  dead  and  for- 
gotten, whilst  my  five  lines  will  live  forever."  The 
number  of  hours  spent  in  the  manual  labor  of  writing 
a  book  is  no  measure  of  the  brain  labor  expended  in 
composing  it.  Thoughts,  to  flow  easily,  must  overflow 


138  GREAT   ORATORS. 

from  a  full  mind.  Alonzo  Cano,  the  Spanish  sculptor, 
completed  a  beautiful  statue  in  twenty-five  days. 
When  the  sordid  merchant  who  had  employed  him 
wished  to  pay  him  by  the  day,  he  cried  out  indignantly  : 
"  Wretch  !  I  have  been  at  work  twenty-five  years 
learning  to  make  this  statue  in  twenty-five  days."  It 
cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that 'all  extraordinary 
skill  is  the  result  of  vast  preparatory  training. 
Facility  of  every  kind  comes  by  labor.  Nothing  is 
easy,  not  even  walking  or  reading,  that  was  not 
difficult  at  first. 

GREAT    ORATORS. 

America  has  probably  produced  no  greater  orator 
than  Henry  Clay.  Though  endowed  with  great 
natural  gifts,  he  was  no  exception  to  the  rule  that 
orator  Jit.  He  attributed  his  success  to  the  one 
single  fact  that,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  he  began, 
and  continued  for  years,  the  practice  of  daily  reading 
and  speaking  upon  the  contents  of  some  historical 
and  scientific  book.  ''These  off-hand  efforts,"  he 
says,  "  were  made  sometimes  in  a  corn  field,  at  others 
in  the  forest,  and  not  infrequently  in  some  distant 
barn,  with  the  horse  and  ox  for  my  auditors.  It  is  to 
this  early  practice  in  the  great  art  of  all  arts,  that  I 
am  indebted  for  the  primary  and  leading  impulses 
that  stimulated  me  forward,  and  shaped  and  moulded 
my  subsequent  entire  destiny.  Improve,  then,  young 
gentlemen,  the  superior  advantages  you  here  enjoy. 
Let  not  a  day  pass  without  exercising  your  powers  of 
speech.  There  is  no  power  like  that  of  oratory. 
Caesar  controlled  men  by  exciting  their  fears,  Cicero, 


GREAT   ORATORS.  139 

by  captivating  their  affections,  and  swaying  their  pas- 
sions. The  influence  of  the  one  perished  with  its 
author;  that  of  the  other  continues  to  this  day." 
Henry  Ward  Beecher,  when  a  theological  student, 
was  drilled  incessantly  by  a  skillful  elocutionist  in 
posturing,  gesture,  and  voice  culture.  There  was  a 
large  grove  between  the  seminary  and  his  father's 
house,  and  it  was  the  habit,  he  tells  us,  of  his  brother 
Charles  and  himself,  and  one  or  two  others,  to  make 
the  night,  and  even  the  day,  hideous  with  their  voices, 
as  they  passed  backward  and  forward  through  the 
wood,  exploding  all  the  vowels  from  the  bottom  to 
the  very  top  of  their  voices.  It  is  said  that  the 
greatest  sermon  ever  preached  by  Dr.  Lyman 
Beecher,  the  father  of  Henry,  one  of  the  most  power- 
ful pulpit  orators  in  America,  was  one  on  "  The 
Government  of  God."  When  asked,  as  he  descended 
the  pulpit  steps,  how  long  it  took  him  to  prepare  that 
sermon,  he  replied  :  '/About  forty  years,  sir." 

Therefore,  reader  of  these  pages,  whoever  you  are, 
whether  young  or  old,  if  the  force  and  inspiration  of 
all  these  examples  are  lost  upon  you,  there  is  little 
left  that  can  influence  or  move  you.  You  must  be 
either  incorrigibly  stupid  or  depraved.  As  you  stand 
and  look  out  into  the  world,  remember  there  is  a 
place  for  you  there,  and  work  for  you  to  do,  if  you 
care  to  rouse  yourself  up,  and  go  after  it.  As  an 
anonymous  poet  has  expressed  it : 


"  There  is  work  for  all  in  this  world  of  ours; 
Ho!  idle  dreamers  in  sunny  bowers; 
Ho!  giddy  triflers  with  time  and  health; 
Ho!  covetous  hoarders  of  golden  wealth; 


140  GREAT   ORATORS. 

There  is  work  for  each,  there  is  work  for  all, 
In  the  peasant's  cot  or  baronial  hall. 

"  There  is  work  for  the  wise  and  eloquent  tongue, 
There  is  work  for  the  old,  there  is  work  for  the  young; 
There  is  work  that  tasks  manhood's  strengthened  zeal, 
For  his  nature's  welfare,  his  country's  weal ; 
There  is  work  that  asks  woman's  gentle  hand, 
Her  pitying  eye,  and  her  accents  bland; 
From  the  uttermost  bounds  of  this  earthly  ball, 
Is  heard  the  loud  cry,  'There  is  work  for  all.' ' 


LITTLE   THINGS. 


LITTLE    THINGS. 


"  Ye  were  but  little  at  the  first, 
But  mighty  at  the  last." 


T  is  the  close  observation  of  little  things,  the 
attention  to  details,  which  is  the  secret  of 
success  and  of  greatness  in  business,  in  art, 
in  science,  and  in  every  pursuit  of  life.  In 
fact,  the  vast  pile  of  human  knowledge  is  but 
an  accumulation  of  small  facts,  made  by 
successive  generations  of  men  ;  these  little  bits  of 
knowledge  and  experience  at  length  growing  into  a 
mighty  pyramid.  The  huge  ''chalk  cliffs  of  Albion" 
were  built  by  insects  so  small  as  only  to  be  seen  by 
the  help  of  a  microscope,  and  so  were  the  coral 
islands.  Christ  said  to  his  disciples  at  one  time, 
"Gather  up  the  fragments,  that  nothing  be  lost." 
The  best  of  "  Poor  Richard's "  maxims,  perhaps,  is 
the  one  which  says,  "Take  care  of  the  pennies,  and 
the  dollars  will  take  care  of  themselves." 

In  looking  at  the  paintings  and  drawings  of  the 
old  masters,  one  striking  difference  between  them  and 
the  modern  style  of  art  is  their  conscientious  nicety 
about  little  things,  the  almost  endless  dwelling  upon 
a  foot,  or  a  hand,  or  a  face,  until  it  was  true  to 
nature. 


142  LITTLE    THINGS. 

Michael  Angelo  was'one  day  explaining  to  a  visitor 
at  his  studio  what  he  had  been  doing  at  a  statue  since 
his  previous  visit.  "  I  have  retouched  this  part, 
polished  that,  softened  this  feature,  brought  out  that 
muscle,  given  some  expression  to  this  lip,  and  more 
energy  to  that  limb."  "  But  these  are  trifles,"  re- 
marked the  visitor.  "  It  may  be  so,"  replied  the 
sculptor,  "  but  recollect  that  trifles  make  perfection, 
and  perfection  is  no  trifle."  Sedulous  attention  and 
painstaking  industry  always  make  the  true  and  suc- 
cessful worker.  Nicholas  Poussin,  when  asked  by 
what  means  he  had  gained  so  high  a  reputation 
among  other  painters  in  Italy,  replied,  "  Because  I 
have  neglected  nothing."  It  will  be  found  upon 
examination  that  many,  if  not  most  of  the  great 
discoveries  of  the  world  have  resulted  in  part  from 
the  attentive  observation  of  little  things. 

Dr.  Johnson  once  remarked  to  a  fine  gentleman 
who  had  just  returned  from  Italy,  that  "some  men 
would  see  and  learn  more  in  an  ordinary  stage-ride, 
than  others  would  in  making  the  tour  of  Europe." 
Many,  before  Galileo,  had  seen  a  suspended  weight 
swing  before  their  eyes  with  a  measured  beat;  but  he 
was  the  first  to  detect  the  value  of  the  fact.  One  of 
the  vergers  in  the  cathedral  at  Pisa,  after  replenishing 
with  oil  a  lamp  which  hung  from  the  roof,  left  it 
swinging  to  and  fro ;  and  Galileo,  then  a  youth  of 
only  eighteen,  noting  it  attentively,  conceived  the 
idea  of  applying  it  to  the  measurement  of  time. 
Fifty  years  of  study  and  labor,  however,  elapsed 
before  he  completed  the  invention  of  the  pendulum, 
— an  invention,  the  importance  of  which,  in  the 
measurement  of  time,  and  in  astronomical  calcula- 


LITTLE   THINGS.  143 

tions,  can  scarcely  be  overvalued.  In  like  manner, 
Galileo,  having  casually  heard  that  a  Dutch  spectacle- 
maker  had  presented  to  Count  Maurice  of  Nassau 
an  instrument  by  means  of  which  distant  objects 
appeared  proximate  to  the  beholder,  addressed  him- 
self to  the  cause  of  such  a  phenomenon,  which  led  to 
the  invention  of  the  telescope,  and  thus  proved  the 
commencement  of  important  astronomical  discoveries. 
While  Captain  (afterward  Sir  Samuel)  Brown  was 
occupied  in  studying  the  construction  of  bridges, 
with  the  view  of  contriving  one  of  a  cheap  descrip- 
tion to  be  thrown  across  the  Tweed  near  where  he 
lived,  he  was  walking  in  his  garden  one  dewy  autumn 
morning,  when  he  saw  a  tiny  spider's  net  suspended 
across  his  path.  The  idea  immediately  occurred  to 
him,  that  a  bridge  of  iron  ropes  or  chains  might  be 
constructed  in  like  manner,  and  the  result  was  the 
invention  of  his  suspension  bridge.  So  James 
Watt,  when  consulted  about  the  mode  of  carrying 
water  by  pipes  under  the  Clyde,  along  the  unequal 
bed  of  the  river,  turned  his  attention  one  day  to  the 
shell  of  a  lobster  presented  at  table ;  and  from  that 
model  he  invented  an  iron  tube,  which,  when  laid 
down,  was  found  effectually  to  answer  the  purpose. 
Sir  Isambert  Brunei  took  his  first  lessons  in  forming 
the  Thames  :  nnel  from  the  tiny  shipworm  ;  he  saw 
how  the  little  creature  perforated  the  wood  with  its 
well-armed  h  d,  first  in  one  direction  and  then  in 
another,  till  Lie  archway  was  complete,  and  daubed 
over  the  roof  and  sides  with  a  kind  of  varnish  ;  and 
by  copying  this  work  exactly  on  a  large  scale,  Brunei 
was  at  length  enabled  to  accomplish  his  great 
engineering  work. 


144  LITTLE   THINGS. 

When  Franklin  made  his  discovery  of  the  identity 
of  lightning  and  electricity,  it  was  sneered  at,  and 
people  asked,  "Of  what  use  is  it?"  To  which  his 
apt  reply  was,  "  What  is  the  use  of  a  child  !  It  may 
become  a  man  ! "  When  Galvani  discovered  that  a 
frog's  leg  twitched  when  placed  in  contact  with 
different  metals,  it  could  scarcely  have  been  imagined 
that  so  apparently  insignificant  a  fact  could  have  led 
to  important  results.  Yet  therein  lay  the  germ  of 
the  electric  telegraph,  which  binds  the  intelligence  of 
continents  together. 

The  comparative  importance  of  "  great  and  little 
things,"  and  their  mutual  reaction  upon  each  other, 
is  well  set  forth  in  the  following  poem  by  Charles 
Mackay : 

A  traveler  through  a  dusty  road 

Strewed  acorns  on  the  lea, 
And  one  took  root,  and  sprouted  up, 

And  grew  into  a  tree. 
Love  sought  its  shade  at  evening  time, 

To  breathe  his  early  vows, 
And  Age  was  pleased,  in  heats  of  noon, 

To  bask  beneath  its  boughs. 
The  dormouse  loved  its  dangling  twigs, 

The  birds  sweet  music  bore; 
It  stood  a  glory  in  its  place, 

A  blessing  evermore. 

A  little  spring  had  lost  its  way 

Amid  the  grass  and  fern; 
A  passing  stranger  scooped  a  well, 

Where  weary  men  might  turn; 
He  walled  it  in,  and  hung  with  care 

A  ladle  at  the  brink, 


LITTLE    THINGS.  145 

He  thought  not  of  the  deed  he  did, 

But  judged  that  Toil  would  drink. 

He  passed  again — and  lo,  the  well, 
By  summers  never  dried, 

Had  cooled  ten  thousand  parching  tongues, 
And  saved  a  life  beside. 

A  dreamer  dropped  a  random  thought; 

'Twas  old,  and  yet  'twas  new; 
A  simple  fancy  of  the  brain, 

But  strong  in  being  true. 
It  shone  upon  a  genial  mind, 

And  lo,  its  light  became 
A  lamp  of  life,  a  beacon  ray, 

A  monitory  flame. 
The  thought  was  small — its  issue  great; 

A  watch-fire  on  the  hill, 
It  sheds  its  radiance  far  adown, 

And  cheers  the  valley  still. 

A  nameless  man,  amid  a  crowd 

That  thronged  the  daily  mart, 
Let  fall  a  word  of  hope  and  love, 

Unstudied,  from  the  heart. 
A  whisper  on  the  tumult  thrown, 

A  transitory  breath, 
It  raised  a  brother  from  the  dust, 

It  saved  a  soul  from  death. 
O  germ!  O  fount!  O  word  of  love! 

O  thought  at  random  cast! 
Ye  ivere  but  little  at  the  first, 

But  mighty  at  the  last. 


ATTENTION    TO    DETAILS. 


ATTENTION   TO  DETAILS. 


"  Little  drops  of  water, 

Little  grains  of  sand, 
Make  the  mighty  ocean 
And  the  beauteous  land. 

"And  the  little  moments, 

Humble  though  they  be, 
Make  the  mighty  ages 
Of  Eternity." 


OU  go  among  a  certain  class  of  men,  who 
wish  to  be  considered  good  business  men, 
and  you  will  find  many  of  them  professing 
contempt  for  detail^.  But  you  study  the 
history  of  bankruptcies  and  failures,  and 
you  will  find  a  larger  number  of  this  same  class 
in  trouble,  than  in  any  other.  An  Eastern  mer- 
chant, who  had  amassed  a  large  fortune,  when  asked 
to  what  he  attributed  his  success,  replied  that  he  had 
made  it  a  point  never  to  neglect  the  details  of  his 
business.  Many  business  men,  he  added,  content 
themselves  with  planning  ;  regarding  comprehensive 
views  as  incompatible  with  scrupulous .  attention  to 
small  matters,  they  leave  the  execution  of  their 
schemes  to  subordinates,  and  the  result  is  that,  in  the 
majority  of  cases,  their  plans  fall  through,  in  conse- 


ATTENTION    TO    DETAILS.  147 

quence  of  the  neglect  of  some  clerk  or  other  employe, 
and  they  remain  forever  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder.  In 
fact,  this  attention  to  the  little  things  of  business  is 
"an  element  of  effectiveness  with  which  no  reach  of 
plan,  no  loftiness  of  design,  no  enthusiasm  of  purpose 
can  dispense.  It  is  this  which  marks  the  difference 
between  the  practical  man  and  the  mere  dreamer ; 
between  a  Stephenson,  who  created  a  working  loco- 
motive, and  his  predecessors,  who  merely  conceived 
the  idea  of  it,  and  could  not  carry  their  thought  into 
execution." 

There  are  plenty  of  people  who  are  ready  to  talk 
about,  and  even  attempt  to  perform,  some  "big 
thing,"  some  huge,  glorious,  magnificent  enterprise, 
but  when  they  come  right  down  to  the  small  and 
practical  details  of  the  undertaking,  they  are  dis- 
gusted with  everything  that  looks  like  details,  and  so 
turn  away.  Such  men  are  like  Swift's  dancing- 
master,  who  had  every  qualification,  except  that  he 
was  lame. 

Let  a  lawyer  neglect  the  apparently  petty  circum- 
stances of  his  case,  and  he  will  be  almost  sure  to  lose 
it ;  for  some  vital  fact,  perhaps  the  keystone  of  the 
whole,  will  be  likely  to  escape  his  attention.  Let  the 
conveyancer  omit  the  details  of  a  deed, — the  little 
words  that  seem  like  surplusage, — and  he  will  con- 
tinually involve  his  clients  in  litigation,  and  often 
subject  them  to  the  loss  of  their  property.  The 
difference  between  first  and  second  class  work  in 
every  department  of  labor,  lies  chiefly  in  the  degrees 
of  care  with  which  the  minutiae  are  executed. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
even  this  most  excellent  virtue  can  be  carried  too  far, 


148  ATTENTION    TO    DETAILS. 

or  rather,  that  there  must  be  ability  great  enough  to 
comprehend  larger  matters  conjoined  with  this  talent 
for  details,  before  the  compound  becomes  valuable. 
As  nearly  every  virtue  carried  to  excess  becomes  a 
positive  vice,  so  the  ability  to  look  after  little  things, 
unless  properly  balanced  in  the  mind  with  other 
counteracting  traits,  degenerates  into  mere  fussiness 
or  disagreeable  particularity.  The  venerable  maiden 
aunt,  living  alone,  becomes  after  a  time  wholly  ab- 
sorbed in  attending  to  trifles,  and  thus  unfits  herself 
for  any  larger  duties  or  designs.  The  same  thing  is 
true  of  a  miser  gathering  and  counting  his  gold.  We 
see  hundreds  of  men  who  stop  and  dally  so  long  over 
little  things  that  they  never  get  on  very  fast  in  life's 
journey.  Hence  it  has  been  well  said  that  really 
great  men  exhibit  as  much  ability  for  large  matters 
as  small,  and  for  small  matters  as  for  large  ;  in  this 
respect  resembling  the  power  of  an  elephant  who  can 
tear  a  tree  up  by  the  roots,  or  pick  up  a  pin,  with 
equal  facility. 

It  is  related  of  a  celebrated  New  York  lawyer  that 
when  he  had  a  case  to  argue,  his  labor  on  the  details 
was  enormous.  He  took  it  to  his  bed  and  board  ; 
had  inspirations  concerning  it  in  his  sleep  ;  repeatedly 
arose  at  night  to  secure  those  by  memoranda ;  and 
never  ceased  to  mine  and  chamber  in  a  great  case, 
till  it  was  actually  called  on  the  calendar.  Then  were 
to  be  seen  the  equipment  and  power  of  a  great 
lawyer.  When  Brunelleschi  elaborated  the  design  of 
that  cathedral  in  Florence  which  was  one  of  the 
'wonders  of  Italy,  he  did  not  content  himself  with 
leaving  the  execution  of  it  to  others,  but  personally 
superintended  the  laying  of  every  brick  of  the  dome. 


SUCCESSFUL    GENERALS.  149 

Here  are  instances  in  which  both  kinds  of  this 
ability  coalesced,  and  assisted  each  other  in  achieving 
the  result. 

SUCCESSFUL    GENERALS. 

There  is  no  profession  which  furnishes  such  oppor- 
tunities for  the  exercise  of  both  sides  of  this  trait  of 
character  as  the  military.  A  successful  general  must 
have  an  equal  talent  for  great  and  small  things. 
Should  he  fail  on  either  side,  he  will  be  a  failure  as  a 
whole.  General  McClellan  had  first-class  organizing 
ability,  but  he  lacked  the  power  to  execute  Tiis  plans. 
When  he  took  hold  of  the  "  Army  of  the  Potomac  " 
it  was  in  a  broken-up  and  disorganized  condition. 
He  looked  after  each  regiment,  compacted  and 
solidified  its  separate  units,  arranged  the  details  of 
camp  life,  and  personally  superintended  each  and 
every  department  of  that  large,  unwieldy  body  of 
men,  most  of  whom,  were  at  first  but  raw  recruits. 
It  was  a  Herculean  task,  and  right  nobly  was  it 
performed.  But  after  the  army  was  put  in  superb 
condition,  he  was  unable  to  handle  it  effectively,  or 
hurl  it  with  crushing  force  against  the  enemy.  It 
was  like  building  a  magnificent  bridge,  and  then  not 
daring  to  cross  it  first.  As  a  military  commander, 
McClellan  lacked  energy,  boldness,  dash,  and  far- 
reaching  sagacity.  He  had  a  good  deal  of  patient 
courage  and  scientific  skill,  and  the  power  of  looking 
after  details,  but  still  there  was  wanting  in  him  those 
larger  requisites  of  a  great  military  leader. 

In  Napoleon,  on  the  other  hand,  these  two  traits 
of  character  under  consideration  were  happily  and 
powerfully  united.  To  a  vivid  imagination,  which 


150 


SUCCESSFUL    GENERALS. 


enabled  him  to  look  along  extended  lines  of  action, 
he  united  the  ability  to  deal  with  the  smallest  matters 
essential  to  success,  with  almost  unerring  judgment 
and  rapidity.  While  other  generals  trusted  to  sub- 
ordinates, he  gave  his  personal  attention  to  the 
marching  of  his  troops,  the  commissariat,  and  other 
laborious  and  small  affairs.  His  vast  and  daring 
plans,  it  has  been  truly  said,  would  have  been  visionary 
in  any  other  man  ;  but  out  of  his  brain  every  vision 
flew  a  chariot  of  iron,  because  it  was  filled  up  in  all 
the  details  of  execution,  to  be  a  solid  and  compact 
framework  in  every  part.  No  miserly  merchant  ever 
showed  more  exact  attention  to  the  pence  and 
farthings,  or  exhibited  a  more  thorough  knowledge 
of  the  state  of  his  ledger,  than  did  the  hero  of 
Austerlitz  concerning  his  men,  horses,  equipments, 
and  the  minute  details,  as  well  as  the  totality,  of  his 
force. 

We  find  him  directing  where  horses  were  to  be 
obtained,  arranging  for  an  adequate  supply  of  saddles, 
ordering  shoes  for  the  soldiers,  and  specifying  the 
number  of  rations  of  bread,  biscuit,  and  spirits  that 
were  to  be  brought  to  camp,  or  stored  in  magazines 
for  the  use  of  his  troops.  In  one  letter  he  asks  Ney 
if  he  has  received  the  muskets  sent  to  him ;  in 
another  he  gives  directions  to  Jerome  about  the 
shirts,  great-coats,  clothes,  shoes,  shakos,  and  arms 
to  be  served  out  to  the  WTurtemberg  regiments ; 
then  he  informs  Darn  that  the  army  wants  shirts,  and 
that  they  don't  come  to  hand.  Again,  to  the  Grand 
Due  de  Berg  he  sends  a  complaint  that  the  men  want 
sabres :  "  Send  an  officer  to  obtain  them  at  Posen. 
It  is  said  they  also  want  helmets  ;  order  that  they  be 


SUCCESSFUL   GENERALS.  151 

made  at  Ebling."  Again  he  writes :  "  The  return 
which  you  sent  me  is  not  clear.  I  do  not  see  the 
position  of  Gen.  Gardanne's  division,  nor  his  force. 
....  I  see  companies  that  do  not  properly  belong 
to  the  army  of  Naples.  This  carelessness  will  at  last 
derange  the  administration  of  the  army,  and  destroy 
its  discipline.  Send  me  perfectly  accurate  returns." 
"  The  returns  of  my  armies,"  says  he,  in  a  letter  in 
1806,  "form  the  most  agreeable  portion  of  my 
library." 

The  captain  who  conveyed  Napoleon  to  Elba 
expressed  his  astonishment  at  his  precise  and  familiar 
knowledge  of  all  the  minute  details  connected  with 
the  ship.  Consequently,  his  armies  were  "only  one 
great  engine  of  desolation,  of  which  he  was  the  head 
or  brain.  The  wheeling  of  every  legion,  however 
remote,  the  tramp  of  every  foot,  and  the  beat  of  every 
drum,  were  mentally  present  to  him."  A  striking 
illustration  of  this  is  furnished  by  the  campaign  of 
1805,  as  described  by  an  English  writer.  In  that 
year  Napoleon  broke  up  the  great  camp  ho  had 
formed  on  the  shores  of  the  Channel,  and  gave 
orders  for  that  mighty  host  to  defile  toward  the 
Danube.  Vast  and  various,  however,  as  were  the 
projects  fermenting  in  his  brain,  he  did  not  simply 
content  himself  with  giving  the  order,  and  leaving 
the  elaboration  of  its  details  to  his  lieutenants.  To 
details  and  minutiae  which  inferior  captains  would 
have  deemed  too  miscroscopic  for  their  notice,  he  gave 
such  exhaustive  attention  that,  before  the  bugle  had 
sounded  for  the  march,  he  had  planned  the  exact 
route  which  every  regiment  was  to  follow,  the  exact 
day  it  was  to  arrive  at  each  station  on  the  road, 


152  SUCCESSFUL   GENERALS. 

the  exact  day  and  hour  it  was  to  leave  that  station, 
as  well  as  the  precise  moment  when  it  was  to  reach 
its  place  of  destination.  These  details,  so  thoroughly 
premeditated,  were  carried  out  to  the  letter,  and  the 
result — the  fruit  of  that  memorable  march — was  the 
victory  of  Austerlitz,  which  sealed  for  ten  long1  years 
the  fate  of  Europe. 

So  with  our  own  generals,  Sherman  and  Thomas. 
The  correspondence  of  the  former  during  the  late 
war,  published  by  the  government,  shows  that  for 
months  and  months  before  his  "  great  march  "  through 
the  South,  he  was  studying  the  country  through 
which  he  was  to  go,  its  resources,  its  power  of  sus- 
taining, its  populousness,  the  habits  of  the  people,  in 
short,  everything  that  could  throw  light  upon  the 
probable  success  of  his  expedition.  He  had,  in  fact, 
literally  gone  over  the  entire  country  in  advance. 
Of  General  Thomas,  his  comrade  General  Steadman 
tells  us  that  he  was  careful  in  all  the  details  of  a 
battle,  but  once  in  the  fight,  was  as  furious  and 
impetuous  as  Jackson.  He  imparted  great  en- 
thusiasm to  his  troops,  and  could  hurl  the  entire 
force  cf  his  army  against  an  enemy  with  terrific 
violence. 

Equally,  if  not  more  remarkable  in  the  same  line  of 
excellence,  was  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  Napoleon's 
conqueror  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  His  business 
faculty  was  his  genius,  the  genius  of  common-sense  ; 
and  it  is  not  saying  too  much  to  aver  that  it  was  be- 
cause he  was  a  first-rate  man  of  business  that  he 
never  lost  a  battle.  The  Duke  began  his  active 
military  career  under  the  Duke  of  York  and  General 
Walmoden,  in  Flanders  and  Holland,  where  he 


SUCCESSFUL   GENERALS.  153 

learned,  amidst  misfortunes  and  defeats,  how  bad  busi- 
ness arrangements  and  bad  generalship  serve  to  ruin 
the  morale  of  an  army.  Ten  years  after  entering  the 
army,  we  find  him  a  colonel  in  India,  reported  by  his 
superiors  as  an  officer  of  indefatigable  energy  and  ap- 
plication. He  entered  into  the  minutest  details  of 
the  service,  and  sought  to  raise  the  discipline  of  his 
men  to  the  highest  standard.  "  The  regiment  of 
Colonel  Wellesley,"  wrote  General  Harris,  in  1799, 
"  is  a  model  regiment ;  on  the  score  of  soldierly  bear- 
ing, discipline,  instruction,  and  orderly  behavior,  it  is 
above  all  praise." 

Shortly  after  this  event,  an  opportunity  occurred 
for  exhibiting  his  admirable  practical  qualities  as  an 
administrator.  Placed  in  command  of  an  important 
district,  immediately  after  the  capture  of  Seringapa- 
tam,  his  first  object  was  to  establish  rigid  order  and 
discipline  among  his  own  men.  Flushed  with  victory, 
the  troops  were  found  riotous  and  disorderly.  "  Send 
me  the  provost-marshal,"  said  he,  "  and  put  him 
under  my  orders ;  till  some  of  the  marauders  are 
hung,  it  is  impossible  to  expect  order  or  safety." 
This  rigid  severity  of  Wellington  in  the  field  was  the 
salvation  of  his  troops  in  many  campaigns. 

The  same  attention  to,  and  mastery  of  details 
characterized  him  through  all  his  career.  He  neg- 
lected nothing,  and  attended  to  every  important 
detail  of  business  himself.  When  he  found  that  food 
for  his  troops  was  not  to  be  obtained  from  England, 
and  that  he  must  rely  upon  his  own  resources  for 
feeding  them,  he  forthwith  commenced  business  as  a 
corn  merchant  on  a  large  scale,  in  copartnership  with 
the  British  Minister  at  Lisbon.  Commissariat  bills 


154 


SUCCESSFUL    GENERALS. 


were  created,  with  which  grain  was  bought  in  the 
ports  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  in  South  America. 
When  he  had  thus  filled  his  magazines,  the  overplus 
was  sold  to  the  Portuguese,  who  were  greatly  in  want 
of  provisions.  He  left  nothing  whatever  to  chance, 
but  provided  for  every  contingency.  He  gave  his 
attention  to  the  minutest  details  of  the  service,  and 
was  accustomed  to  concentrate  his  whole  energies, 
from  time  to  time;  on  such  apparently  ignominious 
matters  as  soldiers'  shoes,  camp-kettles,  biscuits,  and 
horse-fodder.  His  magnificent  business  qualities  were 
everywhere  felt,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  by 
the  care  with  which  he  provided  for  every  contin- 
gency, and  the  personal  attention  which  he  gave  to 
every  detail,  he  laid  the  foundation  of  his  great  suc- 
cess. By  such  means,  he  transformed  an  army  of  raw 
levies  into  the  best  soldiers  in  Europe,  with  whom  he 
declared  it  to  be  possible  to  go  anywhere,  and  do 
anything. 

A  large  manufacturer  of  Manchester,  England,  on 
retiring  from  business,  purchased  a  large  estate  from 
a  noble  lord,  and  it  was  part  of  the  arrangement  that 
he  was  to  take  the  house,  with  all  its  furniture,  pre- 
cisely as  it  stood.  On  taking  possession,  however,  he 
found  that  a  cabinet  which  was  in  the  inventory  had 
been  removed,  and  on  applying  to  the  former  owner 
about  it,  the  latter  said  :  "  Well,  I  certainly  did  order 
it  to  be  removed,  but  I  hardly  thought  you  would 
have  cared  for  so  trifling  a  matter  in  so  large  a  pur- 
chase." "  My  lord,"  was  the  characteristic  reply,  "  if 
I  had  not  all  my  life  attended  to  trifles,  I  should  not 
have  been  able  to  purchase  this  estate ;  and,  excuse 
me  for  saying  so,  perhaps  if  your  lordship  had  cared 


SUCCESSFUL    GENERALS.  155 

more  about  trifles,  you  might  not  have  had  occasion 
to  sell  it." 

It  was  one  of  the  characteristic  qualities  of  Charles 
James  Fox,  that  he  was  thoroughly  painstaking  in  all 
that  he  did.  When  appointed  Secretary  of  State, 
being  piqued  at  some  observation  as  to  his  bad 
writing,  he  actually  took  a  writing-master,  and  wrote 
copies  like  a  school-boy  until  he  had  sufficiently  im- 
proved himself.  Though  a  corpulent  man,  he  was 
wonderfully  active  at  picking  up  cut  tennis-balls,  and 
when  asked  how  he  contrived  to  do  so,  he  playfully 
replied  :  "  Because  I  am  a  very  painstaking  man." 
The  same  accuracy  in  trifling  matters  was  displayed 
by  him  in  things  of  greater  importance,  and  he 
acquired  his  reputation,  like  the  painter,  by  "  neg- 
lecting nothing." 


156  COMMON    SENSE. 


COMMON  SENSE. 


"  Sense  is  our  helmet,  wit  is  but  the  plume; 
The  plume  exposes,  but  the  helmet  saves. 
Sense  is  the  diamond,  weighty,  solid,  sound; 
If  cut  by  wit,  it  casts  a  brighter  beam, 
Yet,  wit  apart,  it  is  a  diamond  still." 


,HE  man  of  sense  and  tact  is  one  who  gen- 
erally succeeds  in  whatever  line  of  work 
he  takes  hold  of.  If  he  makes  a  mistake, 
he  somehow  recovers  himself,  gets  on  his 
feet  again,  and  goes  ahead.  He  is  one 
who  knows  men,  and  knows  how  to  take 
advantage  of  circumstances ;  not  in  a  dishonest 
way,  but  in  a  way  that  turns  out  to  his  profit,  and  the 
furtherance  of  his  projects.  If  he  makes  a  change  in 
his  business,  he  is  sure  not  to  lose  anything  by  it ; 
and  so,  in  one  way  or  the  other,  the  years,  as  they 
roll,  push  him  and  his  fortunes  onward. 

This  chapter  sets  forth  forcibly  the  difference 
which  often  exists  between  the  man  of  sterling  com- 
mon sense,  shrewd  business  capacity,  and  practical 
talent,  and  the  learned  or  educated  fool.  We  say 
often  exists,  because  this  difference  is  by  no  means 
uniform  or  universal ;  if  it  were,  the  best  thing  which 
could  be  done  to  promote  human  welfare  on  earth, 


COMMON    SENSE.  157 

would  be  to  abolish  at  once  all  the  schools  and  col- 
leges in  the  universe.  But  we  think  hardly  any  one 
is  prepared  to  say  that  this  abolition  would  be  either 
safe  or  wise.  Education,  in  itself,  neither  makes  men 
fools,  who  have  good  natural  endowments,  nor  does 
it  transform  natural  idiots  into  men  of  first-class 
ability. 

The  difference  under  consideration,  however,  is  not 
so  much  between  fools  and  wise,  as  between  the- 
oretical, idealistic  men,  who  have  received  what  is 
called  a  liberal  education,  and  whose  minds  are  full 
of  abstract,  scientific,  metaphysical,  or  philosophical 
knowledge,  and  uneducated  men  who  are  destitute  of 
all  scholastic  accomplishments,  but  who  have  instead 
what  is  termed  good,  strong,  common  sense,  or 
natural  ability.  As  the  world  goes,  men  who  have 
amassed  the  largest  fortunes  in  life,  and  who  have 
the  best  judgment  in  practical  matters,  are  not,  as  a 
rule,  men  so  profoundly  versed  in  scholastic  erudition. 
Not  many  of  them  received  when  young  anything 
more  than  the  merest  rudiments  of  an  education  at 
school,  but  picked  up  the  bulk  of  their  knowledge 
through  wise  observation  and  practical  experience. 
On  the  other  hand,  but  few  men  who  have  been 
noted  for  eminent  scholarly  attainments,  and  whose 
minds  are  full  of  learned  lore,  gathered  from  the 
dusty  tomes  and  urns  of  antiquity,  are  pre-eminently 
wise  or  capable,  in  managing  the  practical  affairs  of 
daily  life.  They  have  greater  visionary  power  than 
practical  sagacity,  or  shrewd  business  tact.  They  are 
often  men  of  greater  intellectual  ability  than  those 
distinguished  in  the  commercial  world,  but  their 
ability  does  not  seem  to  be  of  that  kind  which  enables 


158 


COMMON    SENSE. 


a  man  to  hit  the  mark  every  time  he  draws  a  bow. 
There  is  a  hidden  screw  loose  somewhere  in  their 
organization.  They  are  continually  being  involved 
in  unlucky  enterprises  ;  their  plans  and  calculations 
miscarry;  they  fail  to  make  matters  "go."  They  are 
equally  industrious,  equally  careful  and  prudent, 
equally  honorable  and  upright,  but  yet,  the  all- 
important  fact  remains  they  do  not,  and  apparently 
cannot,  get  on  in  the  world. 

A  wide-awake  professor  in  one  of  our  prominent 
colleges,  has  lately  expressed  himself  upon  this  sub- 
ject as  follows :  "  Intellectual  culture,  if  carried 
beyond  a  certain  point,  is  too  often  purchased  at  the 
expense  of  moral  vigor.  It  gives  edge  and  splendor 
to  a  man,  but  draws  out  all  his  temper.  There  is 
reason  to  fear  that  in  the  case  of  not  a  few  persons 
the  mind  is  so  rounded  and  polished  by  education,  so 
well  balanced,  as  not  to  be  energetic  in  any  one 
faculty.  They  become  so  symmetrical  as  to  have  no 
point ;  while  in  other  men,  not  thus  trained,  the  sense 
of  deficiency  and  of  the  sharp,  jagged  corners  of  their 
knowledge  leads  to  efforts  to  fill  up  the  chasms,  that 
render  them  at  last  far  more  learned  and  better 
educated  men  than  the  polished,  easy-going  graduate 
who  has  just  knowledge  enough  to  prevent  conscious- 
ness of  his  ignorance.  In  youth  it  is  not  desirable 
that  the  mind  should  be  too  evenly  balanced.  While 
all  its  faculties  should  be  cultivated,  it  is  yet  desirable 
that  it  should  have  two  or  three  rough-hewn  features 
of  massive  strength.  Young  men  who  spend  many 
years  at  school  are  too  apt  to  forget  the  great  end  of 
life,  which  is  to  be  and  to  do,  not  to  read  and  brood 
over  what  other  men  have  been  and  done. 


BOOK    KNOWLEDGE    AND    EXPERIENCE.  159 

"  Many  a  young  man  is  so  exquisitely  cultivated  as 
to  be  good  for  nothing  but  to  be  kept  in  a  show-case 
as  a  specimen  of  what  the  most  approved  systems  of 
education  can  do.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  tells  us 
that  England  is  filled  with  a  great  silent  crowd  of 
thoroughbred  Grecians,  who  prune  the  orations  and 
point  the  pens  of  great  orators  and  writers  (that  is, 
do  literary  work  for  them),  but  are  indisposed  from 
writing  or  speaking  for  themselves,  by  the  very  full- 
ness of  their  minds,  and  the  fastidiousness  of  their 
tastes."  If  such  is  the  case  it  were  better  to  have  a 
mind  empty,  than  to  have  one  so  stuffed  as  to  be 
lazy,  and  over-gorged  with  richness.  Better  to  take 
some  intellectual  emetic  or  cathartic  and  get  rid  of 
the  stagnating  surplus,  and  so  come  down  to  the 
hard  bed-rock  of  common  sense  again.  Such  culture 
can  hardly  be  called  a  blessing.  It  is  exactly  to  this 
condition  of  mind  that  Shakespere  refers  when  he 
speaks  of  "the  native  hue  of  resolution  being  sicklied 
o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought." 

BOOK  KNOWLEDGE  AND  EXPERIENCE. 

The  experience  gained  from  books,  however  valu- 
able, is  of  the  nature  of  learning ;  but  the  experience 
gained  from  actual  life  is  wisdom  ;  and  an  ounce  of 
the  latter  is  worth  a  pound  of  the  former.  The 
greatest  men  in  the  world  have  not  been  elegant  and 
polished  scholars.  There  were  wise  men  in  Europe 
before  there  were  printed  books.  The  men  who 
wrested  Magna  Charta  could  not 'write  their  own 
names.  Bolingbroke,  the  scholar-statesman,  fled  an 
exile  from  England ;  while  Walpole,  who  scorned 


l6o  BOOK    KNOWLEDGE    AND    EXPERIENCE. 

literature,  held  power  k>r  thirty  years.  "In  general," 
says  his  son,  "he  loved  neither  reading  nor  writing." 
Lord  Mahon  justly  observes  that  Walpole's  splendid 
success  in  life,  notwithstanding  his  want  of  learning, 
may  tend  to  show  what  is  too  commonly  forgotten  in 
modern  plans  of  education,  that  it  is  of  far  more 
importance  to  have  the  mind  well  disciplined  than 
richly  stored, — strong,  rather  than  full.  Brindley 
and  Stephenson  did  not  learn  to  read  and  write  till 
they  were  twenty  years  old  ;  yet  the  one  gave  Britain 
her  railways,  and  the  other  her  canals.  It  has  been 
remarked  that  Disraeli,  whose  speeches  are  often  a 
literary  luxury,  has  never  laid  down  a  single  principle 
of  policy,  foreign  or  domestic,  nor  brought  forward  a 
great  measure  which  was  not  ignominiously  scouted. 
On  the  other  hand,  Sir  Robert  Peel,  whose  speeches 
were  often  the  heaviest  of  platitudes,  and  whose 
quotations  were  usually  from  the  Eton  grammar, 
reversed  his  country's  financial  policy,  regenerated 
Ireland,  and  died  with  the  blessings  of  all  Englishmen 
on  his  head. 

Every  day  we  see  men  of  high  culture  distanced  in 
the  race  of  life  by  the  upstart  who  cannot  spell,— 
the  practical  dunce  outstripping  the  theorizing 
genius.  "  Men  have  ruled  well,"  says  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  "who  could  not,  perhaps,  define  a  common- 
wealth ;  and  they  who  understand  not  the  globe  of 
the  earth  command  a  greater  part  of  it."  Char- 
lemagne could  barely  sign  his  own  name  ;  Cromwell 
was  "inarticulate;"  Macaulay's  asthmatic  hero,  William 
the  III.,  Prince  of  Orange,  scarcely  possessed  a 
book ;  and  Frederick  the  Great  could  not  spell  in 
any  of  the  three  languages  which  he  habitually  mis- 


FAULTS    OF    GREAT    MEN.  l6l 

pronounced.  Many  of  our  greatest  men  were  born 
in  the  backwoods  ;  and  the  strongest  hand  that  has 
held  the  helm  of  our  government, — a  hand  that  would 
have  throttled  secession  in  its  cradle, — belonged  to 
one  whom  his  biographer  pronounces  "  the  most 
ignorant  man  in  the  world." 

All  experience  shows  that  for  worldly  success  it  is 
far  more  important  to  have  the  mind  well-trained, 
than  rich  in  the  spoils  of  learning.  Books,  Bacon 
has  well  observed,  can  never  teach  the  use  of  books. 
It  is  comparatively  easy  to  be  a  good  biographer,  but 
very  difficult  to  live  a  life  worth  writing.  Some  of 
the  world's  most  useful  work  is  done  by  men  who 
cannot  tell  the  chemical  composition  of  the  air  they 
breathe,  or  the  water  they  drink,  and  who,  like  M. 
Jourdain,  daily  talk  nouns,  verbs,  and  adverbs,  with- 
out knowing  it.  They  know  nothing  of  agricultural 
chemistry,  but  they  can  produce  sixty  bushels  of 
corn  to  the  acre.  They  cannot  give  a  philosophical 
account  of  the  lever,  but  they  know,  as  well  as 
George  Stephenson,  that  the  shorter  the  "  bite  "  of  a 
crowbar,  the  greater  is  the  power  gained.  In  short, 
the  crown  of  all  faculties  is  common  sense.  The 
secret  of  success  lies  in  being  alive  to  what  is  going 
on  around  one ;  in  adjusting  one's  self  to  his  condi- 
tions ;  in  being  sympathetic  and  receptive ;  in 
knowing  what  people  want,  and  in  saying  and 
doing  the  right  thing,  at  the  right  place. 

FAULTS   OF  GREAT  MEN. 

It  is  said  that  Napoleon  used  to  complain  of 
Laplace,  whom  he  made  Minister  of  the  Interior, 


GREAT    MEN. 

that  he  was  always  searching  after  subtleties  ;  that  all 
his  ideas  were  mathematical  problems,  and  that  he 
carried  the  spirit  of  the  infinitesimal  calculus  into  the 
management  of  his  official  business.  In  other  words, 
Laplace  had  talent,  but  not  tact ;  or,  it  would  be 
better  still  to  say,  that  he  lacked  good  business  sense, 
and  consequently  the  power  of  adaptation  to  circum- 
stances. Lord  Bacon  was  a  mighty  genius,  in  whom 
reason  worked  as  an  instinct,  but  though  he  was  the 
most  sagacious  of  men  in  his  study,  nevertheless 
when  he  stepped  from  its  "  calm,  still  air"  into  the 
noisy  arena  of  life,  stooped  sometimes  to  actions  of 
which  he  could  strikingly  have  shown  the  impropriety 
in  a  moral  essay.  Addison,  it  is  well  known,  rose  by 
the  force  of  his  own  genius  to  be  Secretary  of  State  ; 
but,  though  he  had  every  opportunity  for  qualifying 
himself  for  his  post,  he  found  himself  incompetent, 
and  was  forced  to  solicit  his  dismission  with  a  pension 
of  fifteen  hundred  pounds  a  year.  The  fine  intellect 
of  Cowper  could  trace  with  subtlety  and  truth  all  the 
crooks  and  windings  of  human  nature  ;  yet,  when  he 
came  to  act  for  himself,  he  was  a  sorry  bungler,  and 
showed  no  tact  in  turning  his  sense  and  knowledge 
to  practical  account.  Such  were  his  timidity  and 
shyness  that  he  declared  any  public  exhibition  of 
himself  to  be  mortal  poison  to  his  feelings.  Dean 
Swift,  the  pride  of  his  master  at  school,  was  buried  in 
a  country  parsonage  at  eightscore  pounds  a  year ; 
while  Stafford,  his  schoolmate,  an  impenetrable  block- 
head, acquired  half  a  million  of  dollars.  Dante, 
boiling  with  indignation  against  his  enemies,  could 
curse  better  than  he  could  conspire.  Machiavelli, 
consummate  master  of  all  the  tricks  and  stratagems 


FAULTS    OF    GREAT    MEN.  163 

of  politics,  could  not  get  his  bread.  Corneille  did  not 
reserve  a  crown  for  his  old  age,  and  was  so  miserably 
poor  as  to  have  his  stockings  mended  at  the  street- 
corner. 

Beethoven  was  so  ignorant  of  finance,  that  he  did 
not  know  enough  to  cut  the  coupon  from  a  bond  to 
raise  a  little  money,  instead  of  selling  the  entire  in- 
strument. He  was  so  unpractical,  that,  when  thirty- 
seven  years  old,  he  sent  a  friend  three  hundred  florins 
to  buy  him  linen  for  some  shirts,  and  a  half-dozen 
pocket-handkerchiefs  ;  and  about  the  same  time,  when 
he  had  a  little  more  money  than  usual,  he  paid  his 
tailor  three  hundred  florins  in  advance.  Often  he 
was  compelled  to  write  music  to  meet  his  daily  neces- 
sities ;  and  one  of  the  passages  of  his  diary  is  entitled, 
"  Four  Evil  Days,"  during  which  he  dined  on  a 
simple  roll  of  bread  and  a  glass  of  water.  Need  we 
add  to  all  these  the  case  of  Adam  Smith,  who  taught 
the  nations  economy,  but  could  not  manage  the  econ- 
omy of  his  own  house  ?  or  that  of  Goldsmith,  whose 
essays  teem  with  the  shrewdest  and  most  exquisite 
sense,  but  who  never  knew  the  value  of  a  dollar ; 
who,  though  receiving  the  largest  sums  for  his 
writings,  had  always  his  daily  bread  to  earn  ;  who, 
when  he  sought  to  take  orders,  attempted  to  dazzle 
his  bishop  by  a  pair  of  scarlet  breeches ;  and  of  whom 
Johnson  said  that  no  man  was  wiser  when  he  had  a 
pen  in  his  hand,  or  more  foolish  when  he  had  not  ? 
Now,  the  gift  or  faculty  which  all  these  men  lacked 
was  just  that  which  every  young  man  must  possess,  if 
he  would  be  a  successful  man  in  business  pursuits. 
But  this  gift  is  not  so  much  a  single  endowment,  as  it 
is  a  happy  combination  of  traits  and  qualities. 


164  FAULTS    OF    GREAT    MEN. 

The  class  of  men  who  are  sometimes  called  vis- 
ionary men,  are  aptly  described  by  the  Boston  mer- 
chant, who  said  of  a  certain  man  :  "  Oh,  he  is  one 
of  those  fellows  who  have  soarings  after  the  infinite, 
and  divings  after  the  unfathomable,  but  who  never 
pay  cash  ! "  It  seems  a  pity  that  "deep-thinking  and 
practical  talent  should  require  habits  of  mind  almost 
entirely  dissimilar,  but  so  it  is  many  times.  A  man 
who  sees  limitedly  and  clearly,  is  both  more  sure  of 
himself,  and  is  more  direct  in  dealing  with  circum- 
stances and  with  others,  than  a  man  with  a  large 
horizon  of  thought,  whose  many-sided  capacity  em- 
braces an  immense  extent  of  objects  and  objections, 
just  as  a  horse  with  blinkers  chooses  his  path  more 
surely,  and  is  less  likely  to  shy.  There  is  no  force  in 
mere  intellectual  ability,  standing,  to  use  a  phrase  of 
Burke,  '  in  all  the  nakedness  and  solitude  of  meta- 
physical abstraction.'  It  is  passion  which  is  the 
moving,  vitalizing  power,  and  a  minimum  of  brains 
will  often  achieve  more,  when  fired  by  a  strong  will, 
than  a  vastly  larger  portion  with  no  energy  to  set  it 
in  motion.  Practical  men  cut  the  knots  which  they 
cannot  untie,  and,  overleaping  all  logical  prelimina- 
ries, come  at  once  to  the  conclusion.  Men  of  genius, 
on  the  other  hand,  are  tempted  to  waste  time  in  med- 
itating and  comparing,  when  they  should  act  instan- 
taneously, and  with  power.  They  are  apt,  too,  to 
give  unbridled  license  to  their  imaginations,  and, 
desiring  harmonious  impossibilities,  foresee  difficulties 
so  clearly  that  action  is  foregone.  In  short,  they 
theorize  too  much.  Genius,  to  be  useful,  must  not 
only  have  wings  to  fly,  but  legs  whereon  to  stand." 


EDUCATION.  165 


EDUCA  TION. 


"A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing, 
Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  spring; 
These  shallow  draughts  intoxicate  the  brain, 
But  drinking  largely,  sobers  us  again." 


JAMUEL  SMILES  says:  "The  education 
received  at  school  and  college  is  but  a  be- 
ginning, and  is  mainly  valuable  in  so  far  as 
it  trains  us  to  the  habit  of  continuous  ap- 
plication, after  a  definite  plan  and  system. 
Putting  ideas  into  one's  head  will  do  the 
head  no  good,  no  more  than  putting  things  into  a 
bag,  unless  it  react  upon  them,  make  them  its  own, 
and  turn  them  to  account.  '  It  is  not  enough,'  said 
John  Locke,  'to  cram  ourselves  with  a  great  load  of 
collections ;  unless  we  chew  them  over  again,  they 
will  not  give  us  strength  or  nourishment.'  That 
which  is  put  into  us  by  others  is  always  far  less  ours 
than  that  which  we  acquire  by  our  own  diligent  and 
persevering  effort.  Knowledge  obtained  by  labor 
becomes  a  possession — a  property  entirely  our  own. 
A  greater  vividness  and  permanency  of  impression  is 
secured,  and  facts  thus  acquired  become  registered  in 
the  mind  in  a  way  that  mere  imparted  information 
can  never  produce.  This  kind  of  self-culture  also 


1 66  SELF-CULTURE. 

calls  forth  power  and  cultivates  strength.  The  self- 
solution  of  one  problem  helps  the  mastery  of  another  ; 
and  thus  knowledge  is  carried  into  faculty.  Our  own 
active  effort  is  the  essential  thing ;  and  no  facilities, 
no  books,  no  teachers,  no  amount  of  lessons  learned 
by  rote,  will  enable  us  to  dispense  with  it.  Such  a 
spirit  infused  into  self-culture,  gives  birth  to  a  living 
teaching  which  inspires  with  purpose  the  whole  man, 
impressing  a  distinct  stamp  upon  the  mind,  and  act- 
ively promoting  "the  formation  of  principles  and 
habitudes  of  conduct." 

Schiller  designated  the  final  education  of  the 
human  race  to  consist  in  action,  conduct,  self-culture, 
and  self-control ;  all  that  tends  to  discipline  a  man, 
and  fit  him  for  the  proper  performance  of  the  duties 
of  life  ;  a  kind  of  education  not  to  be  learned  from 
books,  or  acquired  by  any  amount  of  mere  literary 
training.  Some  have  even  claimed  that  a  man  per- 
fects himself  by  work  much  more  than  by  reading. 

SELF-CULTURE. 

The  best  teachers  recognize  the  importance  of 
self-culture,  and  of  stimulating  the  student  early  to 
accustom  himself  to  acquire  knowledge  by  the  active 
exertion  of  his  own  faculties.  They  have  relied 
more  upon  training  than  upon  telling,  and  sought  to 
make  their  pupils  themselves  active  parties  to  the 
work  in  which  they  were  engaged,  thus  making 
learning  something  far  higher  than  the  mere  passive 
reception  of  the  scraps  and  details  of  knowledge. 
This  was  the  spirit  in  which  the  great  Dr.  Arnold  of 
Rugby  worked ;  he  strove  to  teach  his  pupils  to  rely 


SELF-CULTURE.  167 

upon  themselves,  and  to  develop  their  own  powers, 
while  he  merely  guided,  directed,  stimulated,  and  en- 
couraged them.  "  I  would  far  rather,"  he  said,  "  send 
a  boy  to  Van  Diemen's  land,  where  he  must  work  for 
his  bread,  than  send  him  to  Oxford  to  live  in  luxury, 
without  any  desire  in  his  mind  to  avail  himself  of  his 
advantages  ! "  A  great  fund  of  knowledge  may  be 
accumulated  without  any  purpose,  and,  though  a 
source  of  pleasure  to  the  possessor,  it  may  be  of  little 
use  to  any  one  else. 

It  proves  nothing  to  say  that  knowledge  is  power,  for 
so  are  fanaticism,  despotism,  ambition,  and  a  hundred 
other  equally  doubtful  mental  traits  and  acquisitions. 
Knowledge  of  itself,  unless  wisely  directed,  might 
merely  make  bad  men  more  dangerous,  and  the  society 
in  which  it  was  regarded  as  the  highest  good,  little 
better  than  Pandemonium.  Knowledge  must  be 
allied  to  goodness  and  wisdom,  and  embodied  in  up- 
right character,  else  it  is  naught.  Pestalozzi  even 
held  intellectual  training  by  itself  to  be  pernicious,  in- 
sisting that  the  roots  of  all  knowledge  must  strike 
and  feed  in  the  soil  of  the  religious,  rightly-governed 
will.  The  acquisition  of  knowledge  may,  it  is  true, 
protect  a  man  against  the  meaner  felonies  of  life,  but 
not  in  any  degree  against  its  selfish  vices,  unless  forti- 
fied by  sound  principles  and  habits.  Hence  do  we 
find  in  daily  life  so  many  instances  of  men  who  are 
well-informed  in  intellect,  but  utterly  deformed  in 
character  ;  filled  with  the  learning  of  the  schools,  yet 
possessing  little  practical  wisdom,  and  offering  exam- 
ples rather  for  warning  than  imitation. 

It  is  possible  that  at  this  day  we  may  even  exag- 
gerate the  importance  of  literary  culture.  We  are 


1 68  SELF-CULTURE. 

apt  to  imagine  that  because  we  possess  many  libra- 
ries, institutes,  and  museums,  we  are  making  great 
progress.  But  it  is  not  improbable  that  such  facilities 
may  as  often  be  a  hindrance  as  a  help  to  individual 
self-culture  of  the  highest  kind.  The  possession  of  a 
library,  or  the  free  use  of  it,  no  more  constitutes 
learning  than  the  possession  of  wealth  constitutes 
generosity.  Though  we  undoubtedly  possess  great 
facilities,  it  is  nevertheless  true,  as  of  old,  that  wisdom 
and  understanding  can  only  become  the  possession  of 
individual  men  by  traveling  the  old  road  of  observa- 
tion, attention,  perseverance,  and  industry.  The  mul- 
titude of  books  which  modern  readers  wade  through, 
may  produce  distraction  as  much  as  culture ;  the  pro- 
cess leaving  no  more  definite  impression  upon  the 
mind,  than  gazing  through  the  shifting  forms  in  a 
kaleidoscope  does  upon  the  eye.  Reading  is  often 
but  a  mere  passive  reception  of  other  men's  thoughts; 
there  being  little  or  no  active  effort  of  the  mind  in 
the  transaction.  Then,  how  much  of  our  reading  is 
but  the  indulgence  of  a  sort  of  literary  epicurism,  or 
intellectual  dram-drinking,  imparting  a  grateful  ex- 
citement for  the  moment,  without  the  slightest  effect 
in  improving  and  enriching  the  mind,  or  building  up 
the  character.  Thus  many  indulge  themselves  in  the 
conceit  that  they  are  cultivating  their  minds,  when 
they  are  only  employed  in  the  humbler  occupation  of 
killing  time ;  of  which  perhaps  the  best  that  can  be 
said  is,  that  "  it  merely  keeps  them  from  doing  worse 
things." 

Still,  we  do  not  want  the  reader  to  understand  that 
we  are  decrying  or  ignoring  the  value  of  education, 
study,  intellectual  culture  and  reading,  as  means  of 


SELF-CULTURE.  169 

self-improvement.  By  no  means ;  these  aids  have 
done  too  much  good  in  the  world  to  be  cuffed  aside 
by  any  flippant,  upstart  theory  of  utilitarianism. 
The  professor  and  Mr.  Smiles,  whose  views  we  have 
quoted,  write  well,  and  put  their  points  tersely  and 
vigorously,  and  there  is  much  truth  in  what  they  say 
— truth  which  should  be  pondered  deeply  by  all  who 
expect  or  hope  to  build  for  themselves  a  highway  to 
success  in  business  life.  And  we  agree  with  them  in 
what  they  say  about  the  importance  of  self-culture 
and  of  practical  ability.  If  a  man  cannot  have  but 
one  endowment,  or  if  he  must  choose  between  book- 
learning  and  common  sense,  let  him  choose  the 
latter,  without  a  moment's  hesitation.  If  a  high 
grade  of  speculative,  metaphysical,  or  literary  ability 
must  be  placed  in  competition  with  the  ability  which 
enables  a  man  to  do  business  well  and  successfully, 
then  let  a  man  cling  to  that  which  is  practical  and 
sensible,  rather  than  that  which  is  fanciful  or 
theoretical. 

But  why  cannot  a  man  be  a  tolerably  good  scholar, 
and  a  good  practical  man  at  the  same  time  ?  Every 
young  man  can  make  out  of  a  college  course  just 
about  what  he  pleases.  If  he  wants  to  be  a  self- 
conceited,  shallow-pated  fop,  obtaining  a  mere  smat- 
tering of  knowledge  on-  a  few  general  topics  of 
current  interest,  a  college  is  a  good  place  for  him 
to  accomplish  this  object.  On  the  contrary,  if  he 
wants  to  acquire  good,  valuable  information,  and 
train  his  mind  to  think  consecutively,  and  reason 
logically,  a  college  is  just  the  place  to  accomplish 
that  purpose.  Generally,  when  students  turn  out 
bad  after  going  through  college,  the  trouble  is 


170  NARROW    MINDEDNESS. 

organic  and  inherent*  rather  than  external  and 
acquired.  Education  does  for  native  talent  only 
what  a  grindstone  does  for  a  scythe.  If  the  scythe 
is  made  of  good  steel,  grinding  brings  it  to  an  edge, 
and  enables  it  to  do  more  effective  work  ;  but  if  the 
scythe  is  good  for  nothing  to  begin  with,  the  more 
you  grind  the  duller  it  becomes.  The  trouble  is  in 
the  material,  and  not  in  the  process  of  sharpening. 
While  a  thorough  education  is  never  to  be  despised, 
yet  no  amount  of  education  can  supply  the  place  of 
original  ability  and  energy. 

NARROW  MINDEDNESS. 

There  are  as  many  narrow-minded  men  in  business, 
as  in  the  schools  ;  as  many  useless  men,  lazy  men, 
visionary,  unpractical  men.  There  is  as  much  good 
sense  among  the  educated  classes  as  among  the  non- 
educated,  and  vice  versa.  As  Edmund  Burke  once 
said,  "  He  had  known  professional  statesmen  to  be 
nothing  but  peddlers,  while  merchants  had  acted 
with  the  comprehensive  spirit  of  statesmen,"  so  all 
have  seen  instances  of  men  of  genius  who  were 
totally  unfitted  for  business  pursuits.  But  there 
have  been  others  who  were  great  writers  and  thinkers, 
and  at  the  same  time  men  of  practical  talent.  For 
example :  Shakespere  was  not  only  the  king  of 
dramatists,  but  also  the  successful  business  manager 
of  the  theater  in  which  his  plays  were  produced. 
And  the  crowning  glory  of  all  his  literary  works  is 
their  shrewd,  far-seeing,  vigorous  common  sense 
expressed  in  clear,  terse,  unhackneyed  phraseology. 

Pope  was  of  opinion  that  Shakespere's  principal 


LITERATURE    AND    BUSINESS. 

object  in  cultivating  literature  was  to  secure  an 
honest  independence.  Indeed,  he  seems  to  have 
been  altogether  indifferent  to  literary  reputation. 
It  is  not  known  that  he  superintended  the  publi- 
cation of  a  single  play,  or  even  sanctioned  the 
printing  of  one ;  and  the  chronology  of  his  writings 
is  still  a  mystery.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  he 
prospered  in  his  business,  and  realized  sufficient  to 
enable  him  to  retire  upon  a  competency  to  his  native 
town  of  Stratford-upon-Avon. 

LITERATURE  AND  BUSINESS. 

Chaucer  was  in  early  life  a  soldier,  and  afterward 
an  effective  Commissioner  of  Customs,  and  Inspector 
of  Woods  and  Crown  Lands,  Spenser  was  Secretary 
to  the  Lord  Deputy  of  Ireland,  and  is  said  to  have 
been  very  shrewd  and  attentive  in  matters  of  business. 
Milton,  originally  a  schoolmaster,  was  afterward 
elevated  to  the  post  of  Secretary  to  the  Council  of 
State  during  the  Commonwealth;  and  the  extant 
order-book  of  the  Council,  as  well  as  many  of  Milton's 
letters  which  are  preserved,  give  abundant  evidence 
of  his  activity  and  usefulness  in  that  office.  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  proved  himself  a  most  efficient  Master 
of  the  Mint;  the  new  coinage  of  1694  having  been 
carried  on  under  his  immediate  personal  super- 
intendence. Wordsworth  and  Scott,  the  former  a 
distributor  of  stamps,  the  latter  a  clerk  to  the  Court 
of  Session,  though  great  poets,  were  eminently 
punctual  and  practical  men  of  business.  David 
Ricardo,  amidst  the  occupations  of  his  daily  business 
as  a  stock-jobber,  in  conducting  which  he  acquired 


172  LITERATURE    AND    BUSINESS. 

an  ample  fortune,  was*  able  to  concentrate  his  mind 
upon  his  favorite  topic,  the  principles  of  political 
economy,  on  which  he  threw  great  light,  being  a 
sagacious  commercial  man  and  a  profound  philosopher. 

Grote,  the  historian  of  Greece,  was  a  London 
banker,  and  John  Stuart  Mill  retired  in  old  age  from 
the  examiner's  department  of  the  East  India 
Company,  carrying  with  him  the  admiration  and 
esteem  of  all  his  associates  for  the  thoroughly  satis- 
factory manner  in  which  he  had  conducted  the 
business  of  his  department,  as  well  as  for  his  high 
intellectual  attainments.  Charles  Lamb  was  as  good 
a  clerk  as  he  was  an  essayist.  In  our  own  country, 
William  Cullen  Bryant  was  equally  successful  in 
business  and  in  authorship.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
makes  as  good  a  professor  in  a  medical  college 
as  he  does  a  star  contributor  for  the  literary 
magazines.  Fitz  Greene  Halleck  was  a  private 
secretary  and  a  bookkeeper,  as  well  as  a  poet. 
And  the  same  is  true  of  many,  many  others. 

Moreover,  it  is  always  well  to  bear  in  mind  that 
the  great  end  of  life  is  not  simply  to  eat,  drink,  get 
a  living,  and  make  money.  All  these  things,  of 
course,  are  essential,  but  the  life  of  thought,  imagi- 
nation, and  reflection,  although  it  may  in  some  cases 
unfit  one  for  practical  business  details,  is  in  reality 
the  higher  and  nobler  life  of  the  two.  How  much  is 
the  world  indebted  to  these  same  men  of  thought, 
and  reflection,  and  imagination !  How  could  the 
world  get  on  without  thinkers,  writers,  poets,  in- 
ventors, and  discoverers  ?  As  thought  must  in  all 
cases  precede  intelligent  action,  so  these  theorists, 
these  dreamy,  impracticable  men,  if  so  they  must  be 


LITERATURE    AND    BUSINESS.  1/3 

called  when  judged  by  a  utilitarian  standard  or 
weighed  in  the  scales  of  commercial  comparison,  have 
ever  formed  the  true  vanguard  of  the  race.  Blot 
out  the  lives  and  the  intellectual  results  achieved  by 
these  men  of  thought  during  past  ages,  and  you 
would  at  once  put  the  race  back  into  the  rude  periods 
of  infancy  and  semi-barbarism.  Just  as  glaciers  on 
snow-capped  Alpine  summits  move  slowly  down  the 
mountain-side,  and  then  melt  into  rivers  which  irrigate 
and  make  fertile  the  valleys  below,  just  so  the  in- 
tellectual results  achieved  by  these  men  of  thought, 
dwelling  the  greater  part  of  their  lives  on  summits  of 
abstraction  high  up  above  the  level  of  their  fellows, 
have  moved  down  the  intellectual  plane,  been  changed 
into  current  comment  and  suggestion,  and  at  last, 
embodied  in  practical  projects,  or  worked  out  into 
labor-saving  machinery,  have  made  the  valleys  of 
industry  to  teem  with  verdure,  and  blossom  with 
prosperity ! 

But  in  living  this  life  of  thought,  instead  of  con- 
centrating one's  energies  entirely  upon  business 
pursuits,  in  trying  to  be  a  scholar,  a  poet,  or  an 
inventor,  there  is  no  necessity  for  bidding  adieu  to 
this  sovereign  and  primal  virtue  of  common  sense. 
In  fact,  he  who  lets  go  of  this  sheet-anchor  of  the 
mind,  whether  he  purposes  to  be  a  practical  business 
man  or  an  abstract  thinker,  will  be  an  unsuccessful 
man,  and  a  fool.  It  is  possible  for  a  man  to  be  a 
good  scholar,  a  clear  thinker,  a  logical  reasoner,  and 
at  least  a  fair  average  man  of  business,  too  ;  and 
toward  this  desirable  goal  every  young  man  should 
bend  his  steps. 

The  career  of  the  late  Disraeli,  Lord  Beaconsfield 


174 


LITERATURE    AND    BUSINESS. 


and  Prime  Minister  of  England,  affords  an  example 
in  point.  His  first  achievements  in  literature,  like 
Bulwer's,  were  failures.  His  "  Wondrous  Tale  of 
Alroy  "  and  "  Revolutionary  Epic  "  were  laughed  at, 
and  regarded  as  indications  of  literary  lunacy.  But 
he  worked  on  in  other  directions,  and  his  "  Conings- 
by,"  "Sybil,"  and  "  Tancred,"  proved  the  sterling 
stuff  of  which  he  was  made.  As  an  orator,  too,  his 
first  appearance  in  the  House  of  Commons  was  a 
failure.  It  was  spoken  of  as  "more  screaming  than 
an  Adelphi  farce."  Though  composed  in  a  grand 
and  ambitious  strain,  every  sentence  was  hailed  with 
"loud  laughter."  "Hamlet"  played  as  a  comedy, 
were  nothing  to  it.  But  he  concluded  with  a 
sentence  which  embodied  a  prophecy.  Writhing 
under  the  laughter  with/  which  his  studied  eloquence 
had  been  received,  he  exclaimed :  "  I  have  begun 
several  times  many  things,  and  have  succeeded  in 
them  at  last.  I  shall  sit  down  now,  but  the  time  will 
come  when  you  will  hear  me."  The  time  did  come; 
and  how  Disraeli  succeeded  in  at  length  commanding 
the  rapt  attention  of  the  first  assembly  of  gentlemen 
in  the  world,  affords  a  striking  illustration  of  what 
energy  and  determination  will  do  ;  for  Disraeli  earned 
his  position  by  dint  of  patient  industry.  He  did  not, 
as  many  young  men  do,  having  once  failed,  retire, 
dejected,  to  mope  and  whine  in  a  corner,  but  pluckily 
set  himself  to  work.  He  carefully  unlearned  his 
faults,  studied  the  character  of  his  audience,  practiced 
sedulously  the  art  of  speech,  and  industriously  filled 
his  mind  with  the  elements  of  parliamentary  knowl- 
edge. He  worked  patiently  for  success ;  and  it 
came,  but  slowly ;  then  the  House  laughed  with  him, 


LITERATURE    AND    BUSINESS. 

instead  of  at  him.  The  recollection  of  his  early 
failure  was  effaced,  and  by  general  consent  he  was 
at  length  admitted  to  be  one  of  the  most  finished 
and  effective  of  parliamentary  speakers.  As  an  old 
poet  puts  it, 

"  The  wise  do  always  govern  their  own  fates, 
And  fortune  with  officious  zeal  attends 
To  crown  their  enterprises  with  success," 


176  POLITENESS. 


POLITENESS. 


«  What  thou  wilt, 

Thou  must  rather  enforce  it  with  thy  smile, 
Than  hew  to  it  with  thy  sword." 

— SHAKESPERE. 


^- 

PLEASING  exterior  and  true  kindness 
of  heart  go  a  great  way  in  helping  one 
forward  in  the  race  for  fortune ;  true 
politeness,  such  as  was  known  and  prac- 
ticed in  Lord  Chesterfield's  day,  and  of 
which  Chesterfield  himself  was  a  dis- 
tinguished exponent  as  well  as  a  brilliant  example,  is 
rapidly  becoming  in  this  country  one  of  the  so-called 
"  lost  arts."  There  is  very  little  of  it  seen  or  taught 
here,  and  among  people  in  general  it  is  not  even 
held  in  very  high  estimation.  Thus  far  in  our 
national  career  the  majority  of  our  citizens  have 
been  too  busy  in  pushing  ahead  their  individual 
fortunes  and  enterprises,  or  have  encountered  too 
many  difficulties  in  getting  established  in  life,  or 
have  been  too  eager  in  shouting  the  praises  of 
political  liberty,  and  too  intent  upon  exhibiting  their 
independence,  to  pay  much  attention  to  the  social 
amenities  and  refined  courtesies  of  what  is  called 
polite  life. 


POLITENESS.  177 

It  is  not  enough  to  be  made  up  of  good  qualities 
.  and  traits  of  character,  but  it  is  equally  important  to 
have  a  good  bearing  toward  our  fellows.  One  of 
Chesterfield's  maxims  to  his  son  was :  "  Prepare 
yourself  for  the  world  as  the  athlete  does  for  his 
exercise  ;  oil  your  mind  and  manners  to  give  them 
the  necessary  suppleness  and  flexibility  ;  simple 
strength  alone  will  not  do."  Every  one  knows 
what  a  powerful  thing  for  good  or  evil  an  impression 
is,  particularly  a  first  impression ;  and  every  one 
knows  that  outside  demeanor  and  general  appearance 
have  much  to  do  in  creating  this  impression.  Once 
in  a  while  a  person  has  insight  and  penetration  of 
character  enough  to  look  through  all  the  superficial 
layers  of  a  man,  and  read  the  hidden  thoughts  and 
emotions ;  but  these  persons  are  by  no  means 
common.  With  the  greater  part  of  mankind  the 
external  appearance  and  the  manner  of  a  man 
determine  his  reception  among  his  fellows.  "  Give 
a  boy  address  and  accomplishments,"  says  Emerson, 
"and  you  give  him  the  mastery  of  palaces  and 
fortunes  wherever  he  goes ;  he  has  not  the  trouble 
of  earning  or  owning  them  ;  they  solicit  him  to  enter 
and  possess." 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  manners  of  a  man 
constitute  a  sort  of  minor  morals.  That  is,  a  rude 
man  is  suspected  of  being,  or  actually  taken  for,  a 
bad  man.  Thus,  while  coarseness  and  gruffness  lock 
doors  and  close  hearts,  courtesy,  refinement,  and 
gentleness  are  an  "open  sesame"  at  which  bolts  fly 
back,  and  doors  swing  open.  "You  had  better,"  wrote 
Chesterfield  to  his  son,  "  return  a  dropped  fan 
genteelly  than  give  a  thousand  pounds  awkwardly; 


178  POLITENESS. 

and  you  had  better  refuse  a  favor  gracefully  than 
grant  it  clumsily.  ...  All  your  Greek  can  never 
advance  you  from  secretary  to  envoy,  or  from  envoy 
to  ambassador ;  but  your  address,  your  air,  your 
manner,  if  good,  may."  It  is  not  so  much  what  a 
man  says  or  does,  as  the  way  in  which  the  thing  is 
said  or  done,  that  does  the  business.  The  human 
mind  seems  to  know  by  instinct  that  words  and 
phrases  can  be  learned  and  can  be  spoken  to  order, 
just  as  a  parrot  learns  to  chatter  by  hearing  and 
imitating  others.  It  also  knows  that  deeds  are 
prompted  by  motives  of  all  sorts  and  kinds,  some  of 
them  good  and  transparent,  others,  dark  and  enig- 
matical ;  and  these,  too,  can  be  performed  as 
occasion  requires. 

But  a  person's  manner  is  something  that  cannot 
always  be  so  well  regulated  and  fixed  up  ;  there  will 
usually  be  some  cracks  and  seams  in  the  external 
covering  through  which  the  internal  light  will  shine 
out,  however  hard  the  person  may  try  to  conceal  it. 
And  this  appears  to  be  the  reason  why  we  always 
watch  a  stranger's  manner  so  carefully.  Go  up  to  a 
little  child  on  the  street  and  commence  to  talk  to  it ; 
it  may  or  may  not  understand  the  import  of  what 
you  say,  but  those  bright  little  eyes  scan  your  appear- 
ance most  intently,  and  from  that  appearance  makes 
up  its  mind  almost  instantly  whether  it  is  safe  and 
best  to  remain,  or  to  run  away.  Nature  works 
instinctively  in  such  a  case. 

In  the  early  Abolition  days,  two  men  went  out 
preaching,  one  an  old  Quaker,  and  another  a  young 
man  full  of  fire.  When  the  Quaker  lectured,  every- 
thing ran  along  very  smoothly,  and  he  carried  the 


GOOD    MANNERS.  179 

audience  with  him.  When  the  young  man  lectured, 
there  was  a  row,  and  stones  and  £ggs.  It  became  so 
noticeable,  that  the  young  man  spoke  to  the  Quaker 
about  it.  He  said,  "  Friend,  you  and  I  are  on  the 
same  mission,  and  preach  the  same  things ;  and  how 
is  it  that  you  are  received  cordially,  and  I  get 
nothing  but  abuse?"  The  Quaker  replied,  "I  will 
tell  thee.  Thee  says,  '  If  you  do  so  and  so,  you  shall 
be  punished/  and  I  say,  '  My  friends,  if  you  will  not 
do  so  and  so,  you  shall  not  be  punished."  They 
both  said  the  same  thing,  but  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  difference  in  the  way  they  said  it. 

GOOD  MANNERS. 

A  good  manner  is  not  something  which  can  be  put 
on  and  off  as  occasion  requires.  To  be  genuine,  it 
must  spring  from  the  heart,  and  have  its  source  in 
the  disposition.  In  nature,  it  is  very  closely  allied 
with  goodness  and  good  sense ;  it  is  composed  of 
kindness,  gentleness,  ready  tact,  and  benevolence. 
It  is  carrying  out  the  golden  law,  "  Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself."  Neither  can  politeness  be 
learned  by  studying  books  on  "  Etiquette."  For  the 
effect  of  such  study  will  be  to  concentrate  one's 
attention  upon  self,  whereas  the  essence  of  true 
courtesy  consists  in  thinking  of  others,  instead  of 
self.  Dr.  F.  D.  Huntington  has  well  said  that  "a 
noble  and  attractive  everyday  bearing  is  bred  in 
years,  not  moments.  The  principle  that  rules  your 
life  is  the  sure  posture-master,  and  orders  all  your 
movements.  Sir  Philip  Sidney  was  the  pattern  to 
all  England  of  a  perfect  gentleman  ;  but  then  he  was 


l8o  GOOD    MANNERS. 

the  hero  that  on  the  field  of  Zutphen  pushed  away 
the  cup  of  cold  water  from  his  own  fevered  and 
parching  lips,  and  held  it  out  to  the  dying  soldier  at 
his  side."  It  might,  however,  have  been  just  as  well 
if  he  had  divided  the  cup  between  them,  as  to  have 
wholly  denied  himself  a  solace  equal  to  that  which  he 
so  willingly  administered  to  his  suffering  comrade. 
At  least,  this  incident  has  always  suggested  such  a 
thought,  whenever  we  have  read  it. 

That  neither  morality,  nor  genius,  nor  both,  will 
insure  the  manifestation  of  courtesy,  is  evident  from 
the  examples  of  Dr.  Johnson  and  Carlyle.  The 
former,  the  despot  of  the  "  Literary  Club,"  was  so 
rude  and  gruff  in  manner  as  to  acquire  the  nickname 
of  "Ursa  Major;"  and  though  Goldsmith  pleaded 
with  truth  in  his  behalf,  "  No  man  alive  has  a  more 
tender  heart ;  he  has  nothing  of  the  bear  about  him 
but  his  skin,"  yet  we  cannot  call  a  man  polite  who 
ate  like  an  Esquimaux,  and  with  whom  "  You  don't 
understand  the  question,  sir,"  and  "  You  lie,  sir," 
were  the  extremes  of  his  method  in  arguing  with 
scholars  on  his  own  level.  Nor  can  Carlyle,  with  his 
many  noble  qualities  be  deemed  polite,  if,  as  a  lead- 
ing London  journal  asserts,  his  supreme  contempt  for 
the  persons  who  disagree  with  him  exasperates  even 
those  who  have  the  highest  respect  for  his  integrity 
and  insight.  Washington,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
polite  when  he  promptly  returned  the  salute  of  a 
colored  man ;  Arnold  was  polite  when  the  poor 
woman  felt  that  he  had  treated  her  as  if  she  were 
a  lady  ;  Chalmers  was  polite  when  every  old  woman 
in  Morningside  was  elated  and  delighted  with  his 
courteous  salute ;  and  so  was  Robert  Burns  when  he 


JESTING.  l8l 

recognized  an  honest  farmer  in  the  street  of  Edin- 
burgh, declaring  to  one  who  rebuked  him,  that  it 
was  "  not  the  great-coat,  the  scone  bonnet,  and  the 
Saunders  boot-hose"  that  he  spoke  to,  "but  the  man 
that  was  in  them." 

JESTING. 

One  way  in  which  the  rules  of  politeness  are  often 
violated,  is  by  a  love  of  jesting.  There  are  some 
men  who  would  sacrifice  a  life-long  friend  for  a  joke. 
But  it  will  be  better  for  most  people  to  follow  the 
advice  of  Stillingfleet  when  he  says : 

"  Above  all  things  raillery  decline,, 
'Tis  Jn  the  ablest  hands  a  dangerous  tool, 
But  never  fails  to  wound  the  meddling  fool  ; 
For  all  must  grant  it  needs  no  common  art 
To  keep  men  patient  when  you  make  them  smart. 
Neither  wit  alone,  nor  humor's  self  will  do 
(Without  good  nature,  and  much  prudence  too) 
To  judge  aright  of  persons,  place  and  time  ; 
For  taste  decrees  what's  low,  and  what's  sublime." 

Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan  was  known  in  his  day 
as  one  of  the  keenest  of  wits,  and  yet  he  rarely  or 
never  allowed  it  to  wound  the  feelings  of  any  one. 
Some  one  has  said  of  him  that 


«  His  wit  in  the  combat,  as  gentle  as  bright, 
Never  carried  a  heart-stain  away  on  its  blade." 

The  same  was  true  of  Curran,  the  celebrated  Irish 
barrister.      One  day  he  was  examining  a  witness  in 


182 


JESTING. 


court,  when  the  fellow  cried  out  to  the  judge,  "  My 
lord,  my  lord,  I  can't  answer  yon  little  gentleman, 
he's  putting  me  in  such  a  doldrum."  "  A  doldrum  ! 
Mr.  Curran,  what  does  he  mean  by  a  doldrum!" 
exclaimed  Lord  Avonmore.  "  Oh,  my  lord,  it's  a 
very  common  complaint  with  persons  of  this  sort  ; 
it's  merely  a  confusion  of  the  head  arising  from  the 
corruption  of  the  heart."  Once  when  he  was  arguing 
for  the  defense  in  a  state  trial,  the  judge  shook  his  head 
in  doubt  or  denial  of  one  of  his  points.  "  I  see, 
gentlemen,"  said  Curran  to  the  jury,  "  I  see  the 
motion  of  his  lordship's  head.  Common  observers 
might  imagine  it  implied  a  difference  of  opinion  ;  but 
they  would  be  mistaken ;  it  is  merely  accidental. 
Believe  me,  gentlemen,  if  you  remain  here  many 
days,  you  will  yourselves  perceive  that  when  his 
lordship  shakes  his  head,  there  is  nothing  in  it." 

If  one  can  pun  like  this  it  may  do,  occasionally, 
but  as  a  rule,  politeness  and  wit  are  seldom  conjoined. 
It  will  be  safer  to  imitate  the  Duke  of  Marlborough 
whose  charming  manners  often  changed  an  enemy 
into  a  friend.  To  be  denied  a  favor  by  him  was  said 
to  be  more  pleasing  than  to  receive  one  from  another 
man.  It  was  these  personal  graces  that  made  him 
both  rich  and  great,  for,  though  he  had  nothing 
shining  in  his  genius,  and,  according  to  Chesterfield, 
was  eminently  illiterate — "  wrote  bad  English,  and 
spelt  it  worse  " — yet  his  figure  was  beautiful,  and  his 
manner  irresistible  by  man  or  woman.  It  was  this 
which,  when  he  was  ensign  of  the  Guards,  charmed 
the  Duchess  of  Cleveland,  the  favorite  of  Charles  II., 
who  gave  him  five  thousand  pounds,  with  which  he 
laid  the  foundation  of  his  subsequent  fortune.  His 


IMPRESSIVE    ORATORY.  183 

address  was  so  exquisitely  fascinating  as  to  dissolve 
fierce  jealousies  and  animosities,  lull  suspicion,  and 
beguile  the  subtlest  diplomacy  of  its  arts.  His 
fascinating  smile  and  winning  tongue,  equally  with 
his  sharp  sword,  swayed  the  destinies  of  empires. 
Before  the  bland,  soft-spoken  commander,  "grim- 
visaged  war,"  in  the  person  of  Charles  XII.  of 
Sweden,  "  smoothed  his  wrinkled  front ; "  and  the 
fiery  warrior-king,  at  his  appeal,  bade  adieu  to  the 
grand  and  importunate  suitor  for  his  alliance,  Louis 
XIV.,  whom  it  was  his  great  mission  to  defeat  and 
humble.  It  was  by  the  same  charm  of  manner  that 
he  was  able  so  long  to  keep  together  the  members 
of  the  grand  alliance  against  France,  and  direct  them, 
in  spite  of  their  clashing  interests,  their  jealousies, 
and  their  perpetual  dissensions,  to  the  main  object  of 
the  war. 

IMPRESSIVE    ORATORY. 

Every  one  is  familiar  with  the  magic  effect  of 
manner  on  oratory.  Lord  Chesterfield  has  given  us 
an  instance  of  this  in  his  legislative  career.  Being 
asked  to  procure  the  adoption  of  the  Gregorian 
Calendar  by  England,  he  introduced  into  Parliament 
a  bill  for  that  purpose.  "  But  then,"  he  adds,  "my 
difficulty  began.  I  was  to  bring  in  this  bill,  which 
was  necessarily  composed  of  law  jargon  and  astronom- 
ical calculations,  to  both  of  which  I  was  an  utter 
stranger.  However,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
make  the  House  of  Lords  think  that  I  knew  some- 
thing of  the  matter,  and  also  make  them  believe  that 
they  knew  something  of  it  themselves,  which  they  did 
not.  For  my  own  part,  I  could  just  as  soon  have 


1 84 


IMPRESSIVE   ORATORY. 


talked  Celtic  or  Sclavonian  to  them  as  astronomy, 
and  they  would  have  understood  me  full  as  well ;  so 
I  resolved  to  do  better  than  speak  to  the  purpose, 
and  to  please,  instead  of  informing  them.  ...  I  was 
particularly  attentive  to  the  choice  of  my  words,  to 
the  harmony  and  roundness  of  my  periods,  to  my 
elocution,  to  my  action.  This  succeeded,  and  ever 
will  succeed ;  they  thought  I  informed,  because  I 
pleased  them  ;  and  many  of  them  said  I  had  made 
the  whole  very  clear  to  them,  when,  God  knows,  I 
had  not  even  attempted  it.  Lord  Macclesfield,  who 
had  the  greatest  share  in  forming  the  bill,  and  who 
is  one  of  the  greatest  mathematicians  and  astrono- 
mers in  Europe,  spoke  afterward  with  infinite  knowl- 
edge and  all  the  clearness  that  so  intricate  a  matter 
would  admit  of ;  but  as  his  words,  his  periods  and 
his  utterance  were  not  nearly  so  good  as  mine,  the 
preference  was  most  unanimously,  though  most  un- 
justly, given  to  me." 

Chesterfield  also  said  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle  that 
he  was  the  most  impressive  speaker  he  ever  heard 
in  his  life.  He  ravished  his  audience,  "  not  by  his 
matter,  but  by  his  manner  of  delivering  it.  I  was 
captivated,  like  others,"  continues  Chesterfield  ;  "  but 
when  I  went  home  and  coolly  considered  what  he 
had  said,  stripped  of  all  those  ornaments  with  which 
he  had  dressed  it,  I  often  found  the  matter  flimsy, 
the  argument  weak ;  and  I  was  convinced  of  the 
power  of  those  adventitious  concurring  circumstances 
which  it  is  the  ignorance  of  mankind  to  call  trifling." 
Lord  Chatham  was  a  wonderfully  eloquent  man,  but 
his  manner  added  to  his  eloquence.  The  delivery  of 
Lord  Mansfield,  the  silver-tongued  Murray,  had  such 


IMPRESSIVE   ORATORY.  185 

ease,  grace,  and  suavity  that  his  bare  narrative  of  a 
case  was  said  to  be  worth  any  other  man's  argument. 
The  student  of  English  history,  as  he  reads  Wilber- 
force's  speeches,  wonders  at  his  reputation  ;  but,  had 
he  heard  them  from  the  lips  of  the  orator,  delivered 
in  tones  full,  liquid,  and  penetrating,  with  the  match- 
less accompaniments  of  attitude,  gesture  and  ex- 
pression, he  would  have  found  that  a  dramatic 
delivery  can  convert  even  commonplace  into  brilliant 
rhetoric.  Few  men  have  influenced  more  powerfully 
the  persons  with  whom  they  have  come  in  contact 
than  Bishop  Fenelon.  The  secret  of  his  sway  over 
hearts  was  his  uniform  courtesy,  a  politeness  spring- 
ing from  a  profound  love  for  his  fellow-beings,  of 
whatever  rank  or  class.  Lord  Peterborough,  the  dis- 
tinguished English  general,  said  of  him,  that  he  was 
"a  delicious  man," — that  "he  had  to  run  away  from 
him  to  prevent  his  making  him  a  Christian." 

It  is  sometimes  thought  in  this  day  and  age  of  the 
world  that  if  a  person  pretends  to  be  very  polite 
and  agreeable  and  obliging,  that  he  or  she  lacks 
essential  force  of  character — is,  in  fact,  a  little  "soft." 
But  nothing  is  wider  of  the  real  truth.  It  is  true,  a 
man  may  push  his  way  through  the  world  by  main 
force.  But  advancement  so  gained  is  gained  by  a 
great  waste  of  power.  The  same  abilities  accompanied 
with  prepossessing  manners,  would  have  achieved  far 
more  brilliant  results.  No  doubt,  by  the  use  of  mere 
brute  force  one  may  make  a  certain  amount  of 
impression  ;  and  so,  too,  may  a  soldier  hew  down  his 
foes  with  an  old-fashioned  battle-axe  or  with  a  scythe, 
but  would  he  be  wise  in  preferring  such  a  weapon  to 
the  keen  Damascus  blade  ? 


1 86 


COURTESY. 


COURTESY. 


"  Hear  every  man  upon  his  favorite  theme, 
And  ever  be  more  knowing  than  you  seem. 
The  lowest  genius  will  afford  some  light 
Or  give  a  hint  that  had  escaped  your  sight." 

— STILLINGFLEET. 


JILITARY  men  as  a  class,  are  courteous 
the  world  over,  attention  to  manner 
being  a  part  of  their  training.  Be- 
sides, true  courage  and  courtesy  always 
go  hand  in  hand.  The  bravest  men 
are  the  most  forgiving,  and  the  most 
anxious  to  avoid  quarrels.  Canon 
Kingsley  observes  that  the  love  and  admiration 
which  that  truly  brave  and  loving  man,  Sir  Sidney 
Smith,  won  from  every  one,  rich  and  poor,  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact,  seems  to  have  arisen  from  the 
one  fact,  that,  without  perhaps  having  any  such 
conscious  intention,  he  treated  rich  and  poor,  his  own 
servants  and  the  noblemen,  his  guests,  alike,  and 
alike  courteously,  cheerfully,  considerately,  affection- 
ately,— so  leaving  a  blessing  and  reaping  a  blessing 
wherever  he  went.  It  was  said  of  Sir  John  Franklin 
that  he  was  a  man  "  who  never  turned  his  back  upon 
a  danger,  yet  of  great  tenderness." 


PLEASANT    ADDRESS.  187 

At  a  late  period  in  life  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
wrote  to  a  friend  :  "  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  deciding 
upon  such  matters  hastily,  or  in  anger ;  and  the  proof 
of  this  is,  that  /  never  had  a  quarrel  with  any  man 
in  my  life ! "  Considering  the  long  and  varied 
career,  civil  and  military,  of  "  The  Iron  Duke,"  and 
that,  too,  in  different  parts  of  the  globe ;  the  count- 
less persons,  of  the  most  opposite  qualities,  with 
whom  he  had  to  deal ;  his  constant  vexations  in  the 
Peninsula  with  Spanish  pride  and  suspicion,  and  red- 
tapeism  at  home ;  the  habits  of  his  army  at  that 
time;  and  his  trials  in  political  life, — it  is  truly 
wonderful  that  the  great  captain,  whose  truthfulness 
was  extreme,  could  at  the  age  of  sixty  have  thus 
spoken  of  himself.  It  is  evident  that  he  could  never 
have  said  it,  had  he  not  learned,  before  commanding 
others,  to  command  himself,  watching  and  governing 
his  own  feelings  with  the  same  coolness  and  self- 
possession  with  which  he  handled  his  troops  on  the 
battlefield. 

PLEASANT  ADDRESS. 

Hundreds  of  men  have  owed  their  start  in  life  to 
their  winning  address.  It  is  said  that  some  years 
ago  in  England  a  curate  of  narrow  income  but  kindly 
disposition,  perceived  two  elderly  spinsters,  in  old- 
fashioned  costume,  beset  with  jeers  and  jibes  by  a 
mob  of  men  and  boys  lounging  round  the  church 
porch  while  the  bell  was  ringing  for  church  service. 
Forcing  his  way  through  the  crowd,  he  gave  one 
lady  his  right  arm  and  the  other  his  left,  led  them 
both  into  church,  and  escorted  them  politely  up  the 


i88 


PLEASANT    ADDRESS. 


middle  aisle  to  a  convenient  pew,  regardless  of  the 
stares  and  titters  of  the  congregation.  Some  years 
afterward,  the  needy  curate  was  agreeably  surprised 
by  the  announcement  that  the  two  old  ladies,  having 
lately  died,  had  bequeathed  him  a  handsome  fortune 
in  recognition  of  his  well-timed  courtesy. 

It  is  related  of  the  late  Mr.  Butler,  of  Providence, 
Rhode  Island,  that  he  was  so  obliging  as  to  reopen 
his  store  one  night  solely  to  supply  a  little  girl  with 
a  spool  of  thread  which  she  wanted.  The  incident 
took  wind,  brought  him  a  large  run  of  custom,  and 
he  died  a  millionaire,  after  subscribing  $40,000  to- 
ward founding  a  hospital  for  the  insane, — a  sum 
which  he  was  persuaded  to  give  by  Miss  Dix,  whom 
he  was  too  polite  to  shake  off,  though  almost  as 
penurious  as  she  was  persevering.  Dr.  Valentine 
Mott  said  wisely  to  a  graduating  class  of  medical 
students:  "  Young  gentlemen,  have  two  pockets 
made — a  large  one  to  hold  insults,  a  small  one  to 
hold  fees." 

Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the  deplorable 
lack  of  courtesy  which  almost  all  classes  in  this 
country  are  exhibiting  in  their  daily  life  and  inter- 
course with  each  other.  But  it  appears  from  a 
recent  address  of  Dr.  Guthrie  of  Edinburgh,  that  the 
same  thing  is  true  of  Scotland,  and  perhaps  it  may 
be  called,  properly,  a  characteristic  of  the  pushing, 
wide-awake,  inquisitive,  brusque  Anglo-Saxon  race  as 
a  whole.  It  may  be  further  said  to  be  a  character- 
istic of  this  utilitarian,  selfish,  money-making  nine- 
teenth century.  Said  the  Doctor :  "  Ask  a  person 
at  Rome  to  show  you  the  road,  and  he  will  always 
give  a  civil  and  polite  answer ;  but  ask  any  person  a 


PLEASANT    ADDRESS.  189 

question  for  that  purpose  in  this  country  (Scotland), 
and  he  will  say,  '  Follow  your  nose,  and  you  will  find 
it.'  But  the  blame  is  with  the  upper  classes  ;  and  the 
reason  why,  in  this  country,  the  lower  classes  are  not 
polite,  is  because  the  upper  classes  are  not  polite.  I 
remember  how  astonished  I  was  the  first  time  I  was 
in  Paris.  I  spent  the  first  night  with  a  banker,  who 
took  me  to  a  pension,  or,  as  we  call  it,  a  boarding- 
house.  When  we  got  there,  a  servant  girl  came  to 
the  door,  and  the  banker  took  off  his  hat,  and  bowed 
to  the  servant-girl,  and  called  her  mademoiselle,  as 
if  she  were  a  lady.  Now  the  reason  why  the  lower 
classes  there  are  so  polite  is  because  the  upper  classes 
are  polite  and  civil  to  them." 

We  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  any  "upper  classes" 
in  this  country,  although  there  are  many  who  act  and 
feel  as  though  they  belonged  to  such.  And  one 
trouble  with  us  in  this  respect  is,  that  those  who 
claim  to  be  the  aristocracy  are  not  such  by  birth,  or 
gentle  blood,  or  distinguished  noble  ancestry,  as  a 
rule,  but  rather  those  who  have  happened,  by  hook 
or  crook,  to  become  wealthy  somewhat  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly ;  therefore,  when  these  have  moved  up 
into  the  upper  circle,  they  have  necessarily  carried  all 
their  native  ignorance  and  coarse  manners  with  them. 
Consequently,  there  is  no  one  to  set  others  an 
example  of  good  manners  in  this  country,  any  more 
than  in  Scotland.  But  this  is  no  reason  why  all 
young  persons  should  not  strive  to  possess  it  for 
themselves,  let  others  do  as  they  may. 


190 


THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN. 


THE    TRUE   GENTLEMAN. 


Man  should  dare  all  things  that  he  knows  is  right, 
And  fear  to  do  nothing  save  what  is  wrong." 

— PHEBE  GARY. 


GENTLEMAN  is  recognized  by  his  re- 
gard for  the  rights  and  feelings  of  others, 
even  in  matters  the  most  trivial.  He 
respects  the  individuality  of  others,  just  as 
he  wishes  others  to  respect  his  own.  In 
society  he  is  quiet,  easy,  unobtrusive ; 
putting  on  no  airs,  nor  hinting  by  word  or  manner 
that  he  deems  himself  better,  wiser,  or  richer  than 
any  one  about  him.  He  never  looks  down  upon 
others  because  they  have  not  titles,  honors,  or  social 
position  equal  to  his  own.  He  never  boasts  of  his 
achievements,  or  angles  for  compliments  by  affecting 
to  underrate  what  he  has  done.  He  prefers  to  act, 
rather  than  to  talk ;  to  be,  rather  than  to  seem  ;  and, 
above  all  things,  is  distinguished  by  his  deep  insight 
and  sympathy,  his  quick  perception  of,  and  prompt 
attention  to,  those  little  and  apparently  insignificant 
things  that'  may  cause  pleasure  or  pain  to  others. 
In  giving  his  opinions  he  does  not  dogmatize ;  he 
listens  patiently  and  respectfully  to  other  men,  and, 
if  compelled  to  dissent  from  their  opinions,  acknowl- 
edges his  fallibility,  and  asserts  his  own  views  in  such 


THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN.  19! 

a  manner  as  to  command  the  respect  of  all  who  hear 
him.  Frankness  and  cordiality  mark  all  his  inter- 
course with  his  fellows,  and,  however  high  his  station, 
the  humblest  man  feels  instantly  at  ease  in  his 
presence." 

Says  Mr.  Smiles  :  "  The  inbred  politeness  which 
springs  from  right-heartedness  and  kindly  feelings,  is 
of  no  exclusive  rank  or  station.  The  mechanic  who 
works  at  the  bench  may  possess  it,  as  well  as  the 
clergyman  or  the  peer.  It  is  by  no  means  a 
necessary  condition  of  labor,  that  it  should  in  any 
respect  be  either  rough  or  coarse.  The  politeness 
and  refinement  which  distinguish  all  classes  of  the 
people  in  many  continental  countries  amply  prove 
that  those  qualities  might  become  ours  too — as 
doubtless  they  will  become  with  increased  culture  and 
more  general  social  intercourse — without  sacrificing 
any  of  our  more  genial  qualities  as  men.  From  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  the  richest  to  the  poorest,  to 
no  rank  or  condition  in  life  has  nature  denied  her 
highest  boon, — the  great  heart.  There  never  yet 
existed  a  gentleman  but  was  lord  of  a  great  heart. 
And  this  may  exhibit  itself  under  the  hodden  grey  of 
the  peasant  as  well  as  under  the  laced  coat  of  the 
noble. 

"  The  true  gentleman  has  a  keen  sense  of  honor, 
—scrupulously  avoiding  mean  actions.  His  standard 
of  probity  in  word  and  action  is  high.  He  does  not 
shuffle  nor  prevaricate,  dodge,  nor  skulk ;  but  is 
honest,  upright,  and  straightforward.  His  law  is 
rectitude, — action  in  right  lines.  When  he  says  yes, 
it  is  a  law ;  and  he  dares  to  say  the  valiant  no  at  the 
fitting  season.  The  gentleman  will  not  be  bribed ; 


192  THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN. 

only  the  low-mindecTand  unprincipled  sell  themselves 
to  those  interested  in  buying." 

When  the  Duke  of  Wellington  was  in  India, 
shortly  after  the  battle  of  Assaye,  one  morning  the 
prime  minister  of  the  Court  of  Hyderabad  waited 
upon  him  for  the  purpose  of  privately  ascertaining 
what  territory  and  what  advantages  had  been  re- 
served for  his  master  in  the  treaty  of  peace  between 
the  Mahratta  princes  and  the  Nizam.  To  obtain 
this  information  the  minister  offered  the  general  a 
very  large  sum, — considerably  above  £  1 00,000.  Look- 
ing at  him  quietly  for  a  few  seconds,  Sir  Arthur  said, 
"  It  appears,  then,  that  you  are  capable  of  keeping  a 
secret?"  "Yes,  certainly,"  replied  the  minister. 
"  Then  so  am  I"  said  the  English  general,  smiling, 
and  bowing  the  minister  out.  It  was  to  Wellington's 
great  honor,  that,  though  uniformly  successful  in 
India,  and  with  the  power  of  earning  in  such  modes 
as  this  enormous  wealth,  he  did  not  add  a  farthing  to 
his  fortune,  and  returned  to  England  a  comparatively 
poor  man. 

Occasionally  the  brave  and  gentle  character  may 
be  found  under  the  humblest  garb.  Here  is  an  old 
illustration,  but  a  fine  one.  Once  on  a  time,  when 
the  Adige  suddenly  overflowed  its  banks,  the  bridge 
of  Verona  was  carried  away,  with  the  exception  of 
the  center  arch,  on  which  stood  a  house,  whose 
inhabitants  supplicated  help  from  the  windows,  while 
the  foundations  were  visibly  giving  way.  "  I  will 
give  a  hundred  French  louis,"  said  the  Count  Spol- 
verini,  who  stood  by,  "  to  any  person  who  will 
venture  to  deliver  these  unfortunate  people."  A 
young  peasant  came  forth  from  the  crowd,  seized  a 


THE   TRUE   GENTLEMAN.  193 

boat,  and  pushed  into  the  stream.  He  gained  the 
pier,  received  the  whole  family  into  the  boat,  and  made 
for  the  shore,  where  he  landed  them  in  safety. 
"  Here  is  your  money,  my  brave  young  fellow,"  said 
the  count.  "  No,"  was  the  answer  of  the  young  man, 
"  I  do  not  sell  my  life ;  give  the  money  to  this  poor 
family,  who  have  need  of  it."  Here  spoke  the  true 
spirit  of  the  gentleman,  though  he  was  but  in  the 
garb  of  a  peasant ! 

Finally,  a  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  inferiors 
and  dependants  as  well  as  equals,  and  respect  for 
their  self-respect,  will  pervade  the  true  gentleman's 
whole  conduct.  He  will  rather  himself  suffer  a  small 
injury,  than,  by  an  uncharitable  construction  of 
another's  behavior,  incur  the  risk  of  committing  a 
great  wrong.  He  will  be  forbearing  with  the  weak- 
nesses, the  failings,  and  the  errors  of  those  whose 
advantages  in  life  have  not  been  equal  to  his  own. 
He  will  be  merciful  even  to  his  beast.  He  will  not 
boast  of  his  wealth,  or  his  strength,  or  his  gifts.  He 
will  not  confer  favors  with  a  patronizing  air.  Sir 
Walter  Scott  once  said  of  Lord  Lothian,  "  He  is  a 
man  from  whom  one  may  receive  a  favor,  and  that's 
saying  a  great  deal  in  these  days."  Lord  Chatham 
once  said  that  the  gentleman  is  characterized  by  his 
preference  for  others  to  himself  in  the  little  daily 
occurrences  of  life. 

In  illustration  of  this  ruling  spirit  of  considerate- 
ness  in  a  noble  character,  we  may  cite  the  anecdote 
of  the  gallant  Sir  Ralph  Abercromby,  of  whom  it  is 
related,  that  when  mortally  wounded  in  the  battle  of 
Aboukir,  he  was  carried  in  a  litter  on  board  the 
"  Foudroyant ; "  and,  to  ease  his  pain,  a  soldier's 
13 


i94 


THE    TRUE    GENTLEMAN. 


blanket  was  placed  ilnder  his  head,  from  which  he 
experienced  considerable  relief.  He  asked  what  it 
was.  "  It's  only  a  soldier's  blanket,"  was  the  reply. 
"  Whose  blanket  is  it?"  said  he,  half  lifting  himself 
up,  "  Only  one  of  the  men's."  "  I  wish  to  know  the 
name  of  the  man  whose  blanket  this  is."  "  It  is 
Duncan  Roy's,  of  the  42d,  Sir  Ralph."  "  Then  see 
that  Duncan  Roy  gets  his  blanket  this  very  night."/ 
Even  to  ease  his  dying  agony,  the  general  would  not 
deprive  the  private  soldier  of  his  blanket  for  one 
night. 


FORCE   OF    WILL.  195 


FORCE   OF   WILL. 


"  Be  firm  ;  one  constant  element  of  luck 
Is  genuine,  solid,  old  Teutonic  pluck. 
Stick  to  your  aim  ;  the  mongrel's  hold  will  slip, 
But  only  crowbars  loose  the  bull-dog's  grip  ; 
Small  though  he  looks,  the  jaw  that  never  yields 
Drags  down  the  bellowing  monarch  of  the  fields  ! " 

— O.  W.  HOLMES. 


p— - 

'HERE  was  never  a  time  in  the  world's 
history  when  force  of  will  was  more 
necessary  to  success  than  now.  People 
>/  are  multiplying  rapidly,  the  earth  is  be- 
coming  more  thickly  settled,  knowledge 
has  increased,  and  the  number  of  contestants  for 
every  prize  grows  more  formidable.  Nearly  every 
kind  of  business  is  overdone,  the  professions  are 
crowded,  and  the  only  way  in  which  one  can  hope  to 
do  anything,  or  succeed  at  all  in  life,  is  by  the 
exercise  of  the  greatest  patience  and  unwearied 
application.  And  it  takes  an  immense  will-power  to 
keep  up  one's  spirits  while  making  a  life-long  effort 
to  achieve  success. 

The  will-power  commands,  guides,  controls,  pre- 
serves, or  blasts  and  ruins.  Nature  is  the  engine  in 
the  hold,  furnishing  power,  but  the  will  directs  the 
exercise  of  this  power  toward  any  given  object  or 


196  FORCE    OF    WILL. 

end.  Hence,  the  will  is  president  of  the  intellectual 
republic ;  it  is  the  executive  force  in  humanity. 
Without  will,  a  man  would  be  like  the  soft,  flabby, 
nerveless  mollusk  or  shell-fish  in  the  ocean  ;  he  could 
only  drift  about  with  the  tide,  and  open  his  mouth 
occasionally  to  catch  the  good  things  that  might  come 
along.  As  for  going  anywhere,  or  being  anything  in 
particular,  that  would  be  out  of  the  question  entirely. 
Some  men  have  a  normal  will,  but  no  vim  or  energy 
in  it,  and  so  they  accomplish  but  little.  Again,  some 
men  are  all  will,  and  no  brains ;  these  are  simply 
human  mules,  stubborn,  ignorant,  and  intractable. 
A  well-balanced  and  perfectly-furnished  man  would 
have  body,  brains,  heart,  and  will, — all  four ;  for 
neither  of  these  elements  is  identical  with  the  others, 
but,  taken  all  together,  they  make  up  the  whole  man. 
As  another  has  said,  "  It  is  not  eminent  talent  that 
is  required  to  insure  success  in  any  pursuit  so  much 
as  purpose, — not  merely  the  power  to  achieve,  but 
the  will  to  labor  energetically  and  perseveringly. 
Hence  energy  of  will  may  be  defined  as  the  very 
central  power  of  character  in  a  man, — in  a  word,  it  is 
the  Man  himself.  It  gives  impulse  to  his  every 
action,  and  soul  to  every  effort.  True  hope  is  based 
upon  it, — and  it  is  hope  that  gives  the  real  perfume 
to  life." 

In  Scandinavian  mythology,  the  chief  god,  Thor, 
is  always  represented  with  a  hammer  in  his  hand. 
And  this  pictorial  device  exactly  images  to  the  eye 
the  idea  of  a  hero  which  those  rough,  rude,  strong 
Northmen  cherished.  The  great,  brawny  arm  and 
hand,  clenching  a  hammer,  was  the  very  embodiment 
of  force  or  purpose  in  character.  Very  similar  was 


FORCE    OF    WILL.  197 

the  ancient  crest  of  a  pickaxe  with  the  motto : 
"Either  I  will  find  away,  or  make  one."  It  is  not 
enough  to  simply  wish  and  desire  ttf  be  and  do,  but 
one  must  remember  that  "  nothing  of  real  worth  can 
be  achieved  without  courageous  working.  Man  owes 
his  growth  chiefly  to  that  active  striving  of  the  will, 
that  encounter  with  difficulty,  which  we  call  effort ; 
and  it  is  astonishing  to  find  how  often  results 
apparently  impracticable,  are  thus  made  possible. 
An  intense  anticipation  itself  transforms  possibility 
into  reality ;  our  desires  being  often  but  the  pre- 
cursors of  the  things  which  we  are  capable  of  per- 
forming. On  the  contrary,  the  timid  and  hesitating 
find  everything  impossible,  chiefly  because  it  seems 
so."  It  is  related  of  a  young  French  officer,  that  he 
used  to  walk  about  his  apartment,  exclaiming,  "  I 
will  be  Marshal  of  France,  and  a  great  general." 
This  ardent  desire  was  the  presentiment  of  his 
success ;  for  he  did  become  a  distinguished  com- 
mander, and  he  died  a  Marshal  of  France. 

The  story  is  also  told  of  a  carpenter  who  was 
observed  one  day  planing  a  magistrate's  bench  which 
he  was  repairing  with  more  than  usual  carefulness, 
and  when  asked  the  reason,  replied,  "  I  wish  to  make 
it  easy  against  the  time  when  I  come  to  sit  upon  it 
myself."  And,  singularly  enough,  the  man  actually 
lived  to  sit  upon  that  very  bench  as  a  magistrate. 

There  has  always  been  a  great  controversy  among 
theologians  and  metaphysicians  as  to  whether  man's 
will  is  free  or  not ;  but  if  the  will  is  not  free  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  the  voice  of  conscience  within  us  ; 
because,  being  machines,  we  could  neither  be  justly 
praised  nor  blamed.  As  has  already  been  partially 


198 


WILL-POWER    AND    STRENGTH. 


expressed,  the  will,  considered  without  regard  to 
direction,  is  simple  constancy,  firmness ;  and  there- 
fore it  will  be  oBvious  that  everything  depends  upon 
right  direction  and  motives.  Directed  toward  the 
enjoyment  of  the  senses,  the  strong  will  may  be  a 
demon,  and  the  intellect  merely  its  debased  slave  ; 
but  directed  toward  good,  the  strong  will  is  a  king, 
and  the  intellect  is  then  the  minister  of  man's  highest 
well-being. 

WILL-POWER  AND  STRENGTH. 


The  impulse  of  a  powerful  will  often  endows  both 
mind  and  body  with  heroic  strength.  Men  have 
cured  themselves  of  painful  diseases  by  a  herculean 
effort  of  the  volition,  and  physicians  always  count 
upon  a  cheerful,  hopeful  frame  of  mind  in  their 
patients  as  one  of  the  most  important  agencies  in 
effecting  a  restoration  to  health.  Aaron  Burr  laid 
aside  a  wasting  fever  like  a  garment,  to  join  the  ex- 
pedition against  Quebec.  One  of  the  greatest 
generals  of  the  Thirty  Years'  war  was  Torstenson. 
On  account  of  his  sufferings  from  the  gout,  he  was 
usually  carried  about  in  a  litter ;  yet  the  rapidity  of 
his  movements  was  the  astonishment  of  the  world. 
When  Douglas  Jerrold,  being  very  sick,  was  told  by 
his  physician  that  he  must  die,  "What!"  he  said, 
"  and  leave  a  family  of  helpless  children  ?  I  wont 
die  ! "  and  die  he  did  not  for  several  years. 

When  were  the  prospects  of  any  man  gloomier 
than  those  of  Wolfe  just  before  he  captured  Quebec  ? 
From  his  early  youth  he  had  suffered  severely  from 
a  fatal  disease,  and  the  seeds  of  others  were  deep 


WILL-POWER  AND  STRENGTH.  199 

laid  in  his  constitution.  He  had  been  severely 
repulsed  in  an  attack  on  Montcalm's  entrenchments 
south  of  Quebec ;  his  troops  were  dispirited ;  the 
promised  auxiliaries  under  Amherst  and  Johnson  had 
failed  to  arrive ;  and  he  himself,  through  the  fatigue 
and  anxiety  preying  on  his  delicate  frame,  fell 
violently  ill  of  a  fever.  Partially  recovering  his 
health,  he  writes  to  the  government  at  home,  as  if  to 
prepare  the  public  mind  in  England  for  his  failure  or 
retreat,  a  letter  full  of  gloom,  concluding  thus  :  "  I 
am  so  far  recovered  as  to  do  business,  but  my  con- 
stitution is  entirely  ruined,  without  the  consolation 
of  having  done  any  considerable  service  to  the  state, 
or  without  the  prospect  of  it."  Within  five  days 
only  from  the  date  of  that  letter,  the  Heights  of 
Abraham  had  been  scaled,  Montcalm  defeated,  the 
seemingly  impregnable  fortress  surrendered,  and  the 
name  of  Wolfe  had  become  immortal  to  all  ages  ! 

Another  remarkable  example  of  this  is  furnished 
by  the  captured  Texans  of  the  Santa  Fe  Expedition, 
who,  after  having  marched  until  they  were  nearly 
dead  with  fatigue  and  exhaustion,  yet,  being  told  that 
any  who  should  prove  unable  to  walk  would  be  shot, 
contrived  to  pluck  up,  and  set  off  at  a  round  pace, 
which  they  kept  up  all  day.  So  Quintin  Matsys,  the 
famous  Dutch  painter,  in  his  youth,  despaired  of 
being  ever  able  to  paint,  till  his  mastar  told  him  that 
only  by  producing  a  picture  of  merit  within  six 
months  could  he  have  his  daughter's  hand  ;  and  then 
he  set  vigorously  to  work  and  brought  forth  "  The 
Misers,"  a  masterpiece  of  art,  which  connoisseurs 
have  admired  for  ages.  Nearly  all  great  men — those 
who  have  towered  high  above  their  fellows — have 


200  WILL-POWER    AND    STRENGTH. 

been  remarkable  above  all  things  else  for  their  energy 
of  will.  Of  Julius  Caesar  it  is  said  by  a  contemporary, 
that  it  was  his  activity  and  giant  determination, 
rather  than  his  military  skill,  that  won  his  victories. 
A  glance  at  Hannibal's  life  will  show  that  a  resolute 
will  was  the  leading  quality  of  that  commander, 
though  less  conspicuous,  perhaps,  in  him  than  in 
others,  because  of  the  exact  proportion  in  which  all 
the  military  qualities  were  united  in  him,  who,  by  the 
common  consent  of  soldiers  as  well  as  historians,  was 
the  greatest  captain  the  world  has  seen. 

Napoleon  was  a  terrible  example  of  what  the  power 
of  will  can  accomplish.  He  always  threw  his  whole 
force  of  body  and  mind  direct  upon  his  work.  Im- 
becile rulers  and  the  nations  they  governed  went 
down  before  him  in  succession.  He  was  told  that 
the  Alps  stood  in  the  way  of  his  armies, — "  There 
shall  be  no  Alps,"  he  said,  and  the  road  across  the 
Simplon  was  constructed,  through  a  district  formerly 
almost  inaccessible.  "  Impossible,"  said  he,  ''is  a 
word  only  to  be  found  in  the  dictionary  of  fools." 
He  was  a  man  who  toiled  terribly ;  sometimes  em- 
ploying and  exhausting  four  secretaries  at  a  time. 
He  spared  no  one,  not  even  himself.  His  influence 
inspired  other  men,  and  put  a  new  life  into  them. 
"  I  made  my  generals  out  of  mud,"  he  said. 

His  great  adversary,  Wellington,  was  distinguished 
by  a  similar  inflexibility  of  purpose.  The  entire 
Peninsular  campaign  was  but  one  long-continued 
display  of  iron  will,  resolute  to  conquer  difficulties 
by  wearing  them  out.  In  the  life-and-death  struggle 
between  England  and  France,  of  which  that  campaign 
was  a  part,  and  which  lasted  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 


WILL-POWER   AND    STRENGTH.  2OI 

century,  it  was  the  stubborn  will  of  the  former  which 
triumphed  in  the  end  ;  for  though  Napoleon  defeated 
the  British  coalitions  again  and  again,  yet  new  ones 
were  constantly  formed,  until  at  last  the  French 
people,  if  not  their  emperor,  were  completely  worn 
out.  And,  finally,  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  which  was 
the  climax  of  this  stupendous  struggle,  was  another 
illustration  of  the  enormous  energy,  the  exhaustless 
patience,  the  bulldog  will,  of  the  English.  In  that 
fearful  contest,  French  impetuosity  and  prowess 
proved  an  unequal  match  for  English  pluck  and 
resolution.  For  eight  long  hours  the  British  army 
stood  up  against  the  murderous  fire  of  the  enemy ; 
column  after  column  fell,  and  the  entire  side  of  one 
square  was  literally  blown  away  by  a  volley  of  grape. 
One  sullen  word  of  command  ran  along  the  line  as 
thousands  fell,  "File -up!  file  up!"  and  the  troops 
silently  obeyed.  At  length  the  crisis  came ;  the 
order  to  charge  was  given  ;  and  the  men  who  had 
stood  like  statues  before  the  "iron  hail"  of  the 
French  artillery,  swept  like  a  whirlwind  upon  the  foe. 
When  Wm.  Lloyd  Garrison,  the  great  agitator, 
commenced  the  publication  of  his  paper  called  "The 
Liberator,"  he  began  with  these  memorable  words  : 
"  I  am  in  earnest,  I  will  not  equivocate,  I  will  not 
excuse,  I  will  not  retreat  a  single  inch,  and  /  will  be 
heard!'  And  he  was  heard,  and  felt,  and  his  paper 
became  a  great  power  for  good  in  the  cause  to  which 
it  was  devoted.  Dr.  Arnold,  the  teacher,  used  to  say 
that  the  difference  between  one  boy  and  another  in 
school  consisted  not  so  much  in  talent  as  in  energy. 
When  Ledyard,  the  traveler,  was  asked  by  the 
African  Association  when  he  would  be  ready  to  set 


2O2 


WILL-POWER   AND    STRENGTH. 


out  for  Africa,  he  promptly  answered,  "  To-morrow 
morning."  Blucher's  promptitude  obtained  for  him 
the  cognomen  of  "  Marshal  Forwards  "  throughout 
the  Prussian  army.  When  John  Jervis,  afterward 
Earl  St.  Vincent,  was  asked  when  he  would  be  ready 
to  join  his  ship,  he  replied,  "  Directly."  For  it  is 
rapid  decision,  and  a  similar  promptitude  in  action, 
such  as  taking  instant  advantage  of  an  enemy's 
mistakes,  that  so  often  wins  battles.  "  Every 
moment  lost,"  said  Napoleon,  "gives  an  opportunity 
for  misfortune  ; "  and  he  used  to  say  that  he  beat  the 
Austrians  because  they  never  knew  the  value  of 
time ;  while  they  dawdled,  he  overthrew  them. 


RESOLUTION.  203 


RESOLUTION. 


"  The  wise  and  active  conquer  difficulties 
By  daring  to  attempt  them.     Sloth  and  folly 
Shiver  and  shrink  at  sight  of  toil  and  hazard, 
And  make  the  impossibility  they  fear." 

— ROWE. 


E  who  resolves  upon  doing  a  thing,  by  that 
very  resolution  often  scales  the  barriers  to 
it,  and  secures  its  achievement.  To  think 
we  are  able,  is  sometimes  to  be  so.  Sir 
Powell  Buxton  held  the  conviction  that  a 
young  man  might  be  very  much  what  he 
pleased,  provided  he  formed  a  strong  resolution,  and 
held  to  it.  Writing  to  one  of  his  own  sons,  he  once 
said,  "  You  are  now  at  that  period  of  life,  in  which 
you  must  make  a  turn  to  the  right  or  the  left.  You 
must  now  give  proofs  of  principle,  determination,  and 
strength  of  mind  ;  or  you  must  sink  into  idleness, 
and  acquire  the  habits  and  character  of  a  desultory, 
ineffective  young  man ;  and  if  once  you  fall  to  that 
point,  you  will  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  rise  again. 
I  am  sure  that  a  young  man  may  be  very  much  what 
he  pleases.  In  my  own  case  it  was  so. 
Much  of  my  happiness,  and  all  my  prosperity  in  life, 
have  resulted  from  the  change  I  made  at  your  age. 
If  you  seriously  resolve  to  be  energetic  and 


204  RESOLUTION. 

industrious,  depend  upon  it  that  you  will  for  your 
whole  life  have  reason  to  rejoice  that  you  were  wise 
enough  to  form  and  to  act  upon  that  determination." 

But  who  was  Sir  Powell  Buxton  ?  He  was  one  of 
the  leaders  in  the  cause  of  slavery  abolition  through- 
out the  British  dominions,  and  took  the  position 
formerly  occupied  by  Wilberforce  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  Buxton  was  a  dull,  heavy  boy,  and  noted 
even  then  for  a  strong  self-will  which  often  amounted 
to  real  and  violent  obstinacy.  His  father  died  when 
he  was  but  a  child,  but  fortunately  he  had  a  wise 
mother  who  trained  his  will  with  great  care,  con- 
straining him  to  obey,  but  encouraging  the  habit  of 
deciding  and  acting  for  himself  in  matters  which 
might  safely  be  left  to  him.  This  mother  believed 
that  strong  will,  directed  upon  worthy  objects,  was  a 
valuable  manly  quality,  if  properly  guided,  and  she 
acted  accordingly.  When  others  about  her  com- 
mented on  the  boy's  self-will,  she  would  merely  say, 
"  Never  mind, — he  is  self-willed  now, — you  will  see 
it  will  turn  out  well  in  the  end."  Powell  learned 
very  little  at  school,  and  was  somewhat  of  a  dunce 
and  an  idler.  He  got  other  boys  to  do  his  exercises 
for  him,  while  he  romped  and  scrambled  about.  He 
returned  home  at  fifteen,  a  great,  growing,  awkward 
lad,  fond  only  of  boating,  shooting,  riding,  and  field- 
sports, — spending  his  time  principally  with  the  game- 
keeper, a  man  possessed  of  a  good  heart,  and  an  in- 
telligent observer  of  life  and  nature,  though  he  could 
neither  read  nor  write. 

He  started  in  life  as  a  brewer's  clerk,  and  his 
power  of  will  which  had  made  him  so  difficult  to  deal 
with  when  a  boy,  now  formed  the  backbone  of  his 


RESOLUTION.  205 

character,  and  made  him  energetic  in  whatever  he 
undertook.  He  threw  his  whole  strength  and  bulk 
right  down  upon  his  work,  and  the  great  giant, 
"  Elephant  Buxton,"  as  they  called  him,  standing,  as 
he  did,  some  six  feet  four  in  height,  became  one  of 
the  most  vigorous  and  practical  of  men.  He  worked 
during  the  day  at  his  trade,  and  gave  up  his  evenings 
to  the  reading  and  digesting  of  Blackstone,  Montes- 
quieu, and  solid  commentaries  on  English  law.  His 
maxims  in  reading  were,  "  Never  to  begin  a  book 
without  finishing  it;"  "Never  to  consider  a  book 
finished  until  it  is  mastered  ; "  and  "  To  study  every- 
thing with  the  whole  mind." 

When  only  thirty-two  Buxton  entered  Parliament, 
and  at  once  assumed  that  position  of  influence  there, 
of  which  every  honest,  earnest,  well-informed  man  is 
secure.  The  principal  question  to  which  he  devoted 
himself  was  the  complete  emancipation  of  the  slaves 
in  British  colonies.  He  himself  used  to  attribute  the 
strong  interest  which  he  early  felt  in  this  question  to 
the  influence  of  Priscilla  Gurney,  one  of  the  Earlham 
family, — a  woman  of  a  fine  intellect  and  warm  heart, 
abounding  in  illustrious  virtues.  When  on  her 
deathbed,  in  1821,  she  repeatedly  sent  for  Buxton, 
and  urged  him  "  to  make  the  cause  of  the  slaves  the 
great  object  of  his  life."  Her  last  act  was  to  attempt 
to  reiterate  the  solemn  charge,  and  she  expired  in 
the  ineffectual  effort.  Buxton  never  forgot  her 
counsel ;  he  named  one  of  his  daughters  after  her ; 
and  on  the  day  on  which  she  was  married  from  his 
house,  on  the  ist  of  August,  1834, — the  day  of  negro 
emancipation, — after  his  Priscilla  had  left  her  father's 
home  in  the  company  of  her  husband,  Buxton  sat 


2O6 


RESOLUTION. 


W 

down  and  thus  wrote  to  a  friend ;  "  The  bride  has 
just  gone ;  everything  has  passed  off  to  admiration  ; 
and  there  is  not  a  slave  in  the  British  colonies  /  " 

Buxton  was  no  genius, — not  a  great  intellectual 
leader  nor  discoverer,  but  mainly  an  earnest,  straight- 
forward, resolute,  energetic  man.  Indeed,  his  whole 
character  is  most  forcibly  expressed  in  his  own  words, 
which  every  young  man  might  well  stamp  upon  his 
soul:  "  The  longer  I  live,"  said  he,  "the  more  I  am 
certain  that  the  great  difference  between  men,  be- 
tween the  feeble  and  the  powerful,  the  great  and  the 
insignificant,  is  energy, — invincible  determination,— 
a  purpose  once  fixed,  and  then  death  or  victory ! 
That  quality  will  do  anything  that  can  be  done  in 
this  world ;  and  no  talent,  no  circumstances,  no 
opportunities,  will  make  a  two-legged  creature  a  man 
without  it." 

Another  man  of  resolute  will  and  indefatigable 
industry  was  Warren  Hastings,  so  celebrated  in 
English  history  as  one  of  the  rulers  of  the  British 
Empire  in  India.  His  family  was  ancient  and 
illustrious,  but  their  vicissitudes  of  fortune  and  ill- 
requited  loyalty  in  the  cause  of  the  Stuarts,  brought 
them  to  ruin,  and  the  family  estate  at  Daylesford,  of 
which  they  had  been  lords  of  the  manor  for  hundreds 
of  years,  at  length  passed  from  their  hands.  The 
last  Hastings  of  Daylesford  had,  however,  previously 
presented  the  parish  living  to  his  second  son  ;  and  it 
was  in  his  house,  many  years  later,  that  Warren 
Hastings,  his  grandson,  was  born.  The  boy  learned 
his  letters  at  the  village-school  of  Daylesford,  on  the 
same  bench  with  the  children  of  the  peasantry.  He 
played  in  the  fields  which  his  fathers  had  owned ; 


RESOLUTION. 


2O7 


and  what  the  loyal  and  brave  Hastings  of  Daylesford 
had  been,  was  ever  in  the  boy's  thoughts.  His 
young  ambition  was  fired,  and  it  is  said  that,  one 
summer's  day,  when  only  seven  years  old,  as  he  laid 
him  down  on  the  bank  of  the  stream  which  flows 
through  the  old  domain,  he  formed  in  his  mind  the 
resolution  that  he  would  yet  recover  possession  of 
the  family  lands. 

It  was  the  romantic  vision  of  a  mere  boy  ;  yet  he 
lived  to  realize  it.  The  dream  became  a  passion, 
rooted  in  his  very  life  ;  and  he  pursued  his  determina- 
tion through  youth  up  to  manhood,  with  that  calm 
but  indomitable  force  of  will  which  was  the  most 
striking  peculiarity  of  his  character.  The  poor 
orphan  boy  became  one  of  the  most  powerful  men 
of  his  time  ;  he  retrieved  the  fortunes  of  his  line ; 
bought  back  the  old  estate,  and  rebuilt  the  family 
mansion.  "  When,  under  a  tropical  sun,"  says 
Macaulay,  "  he  ruled  fifty  millions  of  Asiatics,  his 
hopes,  amidst  all  the  cares  of  war,  finance  and  legis- 
lation, still  pointed  to  Daylesford.  And  when  his 
long  public  life,  so  singularly  checkered  with  good 
and  evil,  with  glory  and  obloquy,  had  at  length  closed 
forever,  it  was  to  Daylesford  that  he  retired  to  die." 


208 


PERSEVERANCE. 


PERSE  VE RANGE. 


"  Perseverance  is  a  Roman  virtue, 
That  wins  each  godlike  act,  and  plucks  success 
E'en  from  the  spear-proof  crest  of  rugged  danger.' 


HERE  are  hundreds  of  men  who,  in  the 
beginning  of  their  career,  are  obliged  to 
war  against  both  wind  and  tide,  but  those 
who  persevere  for  years  and  conquer  their 
difficulties,  generally  overcome  at  last, 
unless  their  will-power  fails  them,  when  they  sink 
down  by  the  wayside,  give  up  in  despair,  and  come 
to  nothing.  Savonarola,  the  Italian  reformer,  broke 
down  in  his  first  sermon  and  was  humiliated  beyond 
expression.  Resolved,  however,  to  succeed,  he  kept 
on  preaching  to  peasants  and  children,  and  in  the 
solitude  of  his  own  chamber,  till  at  last  he  acquired  a 
facility  of  utterance  and  a  command  of  striking 
language  which  made  him  the  prophet  of  his  age  and 
the  first  orator  in  Italy.  Robespierre,  contending 
with  the  disadvantages  of  a  harsh  voice,  an  ugly  face, 
and  a  hesitating  tongue,  failed  in  his  first  essays  at 
speaking  so  egregiously  that  not  one  man  in  a 
thousand,  under  the  circumstances,  ^Duld  have  helped 
being  disheartened ;  yet  by  ceaseless  effort  he  suc- 
ceeded in  leading  the  National  Assembly  of  France. 
Mr.  Cobden's  first  speech  was  a  humiliating  failure. 


PERSEVERANCE.  2OQ 

He  was  nervous,  confused,  and  finally  broke  down  ; 
yet  he  did  not  retire  to  a  corner  and  mope  and  whine, 
but  persevered,  till  at  last  he  became  one  of  the  most 
powerful  speakers  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law  League, 
and  extorted  the  praise  of  the  accomplished  Robert 
Peel. 

When  Daniel  Webster  attended  an  academy  in  his 
boyhood,  though  he  was  proficient  in  the  othei 
branches  of  education,  there  was  one  thing,  he  tells 
us,  he  could  not  do, — he  could  not  declaim  before 
the  school.  "  The  kind  and  excellent  Buckminster 
especially  sought  to  persuade  me  to  perform  the  ex- 
ercise of  declamation  like  other  boys,  but  I  could  not 
do  it.  Many  a  piece  did  I  commit  to  memory,  and 
rehearse  it  in  my  own  room,  over  and  over  again ; 
but  when  the  day  came,  when  the  school  collected, 
when  my  name  was  called,  and  I  saw  all  eyes  turned 
upon  my  seat,  I  could  not  raise  myself  from  it.  Some- 
times the  masters  frowned,  sometimes  they  smiled. 
Mr.  Buckminster  always  pressed  and  entreated  with 
the  most  winning  kindness  that  I  would  only  venture 
once ;  but  I  could  not  command  sufficient  resolution, 
and  when  the  occasion  was  over,  I  went  home  and 
wept  bitter  tears  of  mortification.' 

Rev.  Dr.  Francis  Wayland  began  his  ministerial 
career  under  many  discouragements.  They  would 
have  crushed  a  feeble  man,  but  only  stimulated  him 
to  greater  efforts.  Son  of  an  English  currier,  who 
had  abandoned  a  profitable  trade  to  become  a  Baptist 
preacher,  he  gave  up  the  profession  for  which  he  had 
partially  prepared  himself,  and  followed  the  example 
of  his  father.  A  single  year  at  Andover,  where  he 
was  so  poor  that  he  had  once  to  choose  between  a 


210 


PERSEVERANCE. 


coat  and  a  copy  of  Schleusner's  lexicon,  summed  up 
his  study  of  theology ;  yet  he  had  so  faithfully  im- 
proved this  slender  opportunity,  that  he  was  called  to 
the  pastorate  of  the  First  Baptist  Church  in  Boston. 
On  a  cold,  rainy  night  in  October,  1823,  he  preached 
before  the  Baptist  Foreign  Missionary  Society  a  ser- 
mon on  missions.  There  were  about  fifty  persons 
present ;  the  discourse  kindled  no  enthusiasm  ;  and 
with  keen  chagrin  the  preacher  next  morning  flung 
himself  upon  a  lounge  in  the  study  of  a  friend,  ex- 
claiming, "It  was  a  complete  failure  ;  it  fell  perfectly 
dead."  Luckily,  among  the  hearers  was  a  shrewd 
printer,  a  deacon  in  the  church,  who  insisted  that  the 
sermon  should  be  published.  Against  his  own  will, 
the  author  consented.  The  discourse — the  memor- 
able one  on  "  The  Moral  Dignity  of  the  Missionary 
Enterprise"-— ran  through  several  editions,  both  in 
this  country  and  in  England,  called  forth  the  warmest 
encomiums  of  the  press  without  distinction  of 
sect,  and  kindled  a  new  enthusiasm  in  behalf  of  mis- 
sions throughout  the  Christian  world.  Robert  Hall, 
on  reading  it,  predicted  a  still  greater  distinction  for 
the  preacher ;  and  only  three  years  later  the  author, 
hitherto  an  obscure  man,  was  elected  to  the  Presidency 
of  Brown  University,  almost  by  acclamation. 

History  abounds  with  instances  of  doubtful  battles 
or  unexpected  reverses  transformed  by  one  man's 
stubbornness  into  eleventh-hour  triumphs.  It  is 
opinion,  as  De  Maistre  truly  says,  that  wins  battles, 
and  it  is  opinion  that  loses  them.  The  battle  of 
Marengo  went  against  the  French  during  the  first  half 
of  the  day,  and  they  were  expecting  an  order  to  re- 
treat, when  Dessaix,  consulted  by  Napoleon,  looked 


PERSEVERANCE.  2  I  I 

at  his  watch,  and  said,  "The  battle  is  completely 
lost ;  but  it  is  only  two  o'clock,  and  we  shall  have 
time  to  gain  another."  He  then  made  his  famous 
cavalry  charge,  and  won  the  field.  Blucher,  the  famous 
Prussian  general,  was  by  no  means  a  lucky  leader. 
He  was  beaten  in  nine  battles  out  of  ten  ;  but  in  a 
marvelously  brief  time  he  had  rallied  his  routed  army, 
and  was  as  formidable  as  ever.  He  had  his  disap- 
pointments, but  turned  them,  as  the  oyster  does  the 
sand  which  annoys  it,  into  a  pearl.  Washington  lost 
more  battles  than  he  won,  but  he  organized  victory 
out  of  defeat,  and  triumphed  in  the  end.  It  was  be- 
cause they  appreciated  this  quality  of  pluck,  that, 
when  the  battle  of  Cannae  was  lost,  and  Hannibal 
was  measuring  by  the  bushels  the  rings  of  Roman 
knights  who  had  perished  in  the  strife,  the  Senate  of 
Rome  voted  thanks  to  the  defeated  general,  Consul 
Terentius  Varro,  for  not  having  despaired  of  the 
republic. 

When  Daniel  Webster  entered  upon  the  study  of 
law,  some  one  told  him  he  had  better  not  do  it,  that 
the  profession  was  overcrowded  already,  and  that  the 
chances  were  all  against  him.  "  Overcrowded  ?"  said 
Webster,  ''there  is  always  room  enough  at  the  top." 
And  so  he  started  for  the  "top"  of  his  profession, 
and  finally  reached  it.  But  how  many  give  out  before 
they  reach  the  top,  or  come  anywhere  near  it  ? 

It  cannot  be  too  often  repeated  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  genius  by  which  one  can  scale  the  walls 
of  difficulty  which  are  sure  to  be  encouatered  in  life's 
pathway,  or  to  fly  to  the  pinnacle  of  fortune,  fame  and 
glory  at  a  single  endeavor.  Genius  is  simply  another 
name  for  force  of  will,  power  of  endurance,  and  good 


212 


ADVERSITY. 


native  talent.  Nor  must  one  be  easily  discouraged 
by  failures  at  first.  The  very  brightest  stars  in  for- 
tune's firmament  have  climbed  their  way  up  the 
giddy  steep,  step  by  step,  never  becoming  disheart- 
ened, never  going  back,  or  giving  out,  after  having 
once  set  their  faces  like  a  flint  in  the  direction  of 
their  ambition  or  desire. 

What  the  elder  Kean  said  of  the  stage  is  applica- 
ble to  every  profession  and  art  in  life:  "  Acting  does 
not,  like  Dogberry's  reading  and  writing,  '  come  by 
nature  ;'  with  all  the  high  qualities  which  go  to  the 
formation  of  a  great  exponent  of  the  book  of  life 
(for  so  the  stage  may  justly  be  called),  it  is  impossi- 
ble, totally  impossible,  to  leap  at  once  to  fame. 
'  What  wound  did  ever  heal,  but  by  slow  degrees  ?' 
says  our  immortal  author ;  and  what  man,  say  I,  ever 
became  an  'actor'  without  a  long  and  sedulous 
apprenticeship  ?  I  know  that  many  think  to  step 
from  behind  a  counter  or  jump  from  the  high  stool 
of  an  office  to  the  boards,  and  take  the  town  by 
storm  in  Richard  or  Othello,  is  '  as  easy  as  lying.'  O, 
the  born  idiots !  they  remind  me  of  the  halfpenny 
candles  stuck  in  the  windows  on  illumination  nights ; 
they  flicker  and  flutter  their  brief  minute,  and  go  out 
unheeded.  Barn-storming,  my  lads,  barn-storming,— 
that's  the  touchstone ;  by  that  I  won  my  spurs  ;  so 
did  Garrick,  Henderson  and  Kemble  ;  and  so,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  water,  did  my  almost  namesake, 
Lekain,  and  Talma." 

ADVERSITT. 


Dr.  Mathews  has  well  said  that  "  adversity  is  often 


ADVERSITY.  2 1 3 

like  a  panther  ;  look  it  boldly  in  the  face,  and  it  turns 
cowering  away  from  you.  It  is  with  life's  troubles  as 
with  the  risks  of  the  battlefield  ;  there  is  always  less 
of  aggregate  danger  to  the  party  that  stands  firm 
than  to  that  which  gives  way, — the  cowards  being 
always  cut  down  ingloriously  in  the  fight.  We  are 
aware  that  it  is  hard  to  begin  life  without  a  dollar, 
hard  to  be  poor,  and  harder  to  seem  poor  in  the  eyes 
of  others.  No  young  man,  especially  no  young  man 
in  our  cities,  likes  to  make  his  entree  in  life  with  his 
boots  patched ;  to  wear  an  antediluvian  hat,  and 
clean  gloves  smelling  of  camphene  and  economy;  nor 
to  carry  a  cotton  umbrella ;  nor  to  ask  a  girl  to  marry 
him  and  live  in  the  '  sky-parlor '  of  a  cheap  boarding- 
house.  We  all  like  to  drive  along  smoothly,  to  have 
a  fine  turnout,  to  have  the  hinges  of  life  oiled,  the 
backs  padded,  and  the  seats  cushioned.  But  such  is 
not  the  road  to  success  in  any  profession  or  calling ; 
and  if  you  are  poor,  and  feel  that  you  cannot  climb 
the  steeps  of  life  unassisted, — that  you  must  be  car- 
ried in  a  vehicle,  instead  of  trudging  on  foot  along 
the  dusty  highway, — then  confess  your  weakness,  and 
seek  your  Hercules  in  the  first  heiress  who  is  as  want- 
ing in  judgment,  as  you  in  nerve  and  resolution.  Mar- 
ry $5,000  a  year,  if  you  can,  and  be  a  stall-fed  ox  for  the 
remainder  of  your  days.  But  do  not,  while  thus 
'  boosted '  into,  boast  of  your  success.  Do  not, 
while  rising  in  the  world  like  a  balloon,  by  pressure 
from  without  instead  of  from  within,  fancy  you  have 
any  claim  to  triumph." 

No  man  should  be  discouraged  because  he  does 
not  get  on  rapidly  in  his  calling  from  the  start.  It 
should  be  remembered  that  a  solid  character  is  not 


214 


ADVERSITY. 


the  growth  of  a  day,  that  the  mental  faculties 
matured  except  by  long  and  laborious  culture.  To 
refine  the  taste,  to  fortify  the  reasoning  faculty  with 
its  appropriate  discipline,  to  store  the  cells  of  the 
memory  with  varied  and  useful  learning,  to  train  all 
the  powers  of  the  mind  symmetrically,  is  the  work  of 
calm  and  studious  years.  A  young  man's  education 
has  been  of  little  use  to  him  if  it  has  not  taught  him 
to  check  the  fretful  impatience,  the  eager  haste  to 
drink  the  cup  of  life,  the  desire  to  exhaust  the  intox- 
icating draughts  of  ambition  which  is  so  character- 
istic of  Young  America. 

Handel,  the  composer,  had  a  harpsichord,  every  key 
of  which,  by  incessant  practice,  was  hollowed  like  a 
bowl  of  a  spoon.  When  an  East-Indian  is  learning 
archery,  he  is  compelled  by  his  master  to  exercise  the 
attitudes  and  drawing  the  string  to  his  ear  for  three 
months  together,  before  he  is  suffered  to  set  an  arrow. 
"  Half  the  intellectual  or  physical  efforts  which,  put 
forth  by  some  persons  for  petty  or  worthless,  perhaps 
shameful  objects,  would  suffice,  in  many  cases,  if 
directed  to  noble  ends,  to  place  them  on  a  level  with 
the  great  lights  of  the  age, — the  superior  intelligen- 
ces of  art,  literature,  and  science, — and  to  lay  the 
foundation  of  a  glory  which  might  vie  hereafter  with 
that  of  '  the  mighty  dead.'  And  yet  the  cry  of  most 
dullards,  and  of  many  who  are  not,  is,  '  I  am  too  low 
in  the  scale  ;  it  is  of  no  use  for  me  to  try  to  rise  ;  I 
am  not,  and  never  shall  be,  anybody.'  But  does  a 
prisoner  cling  to  his  captivity  and  hug  his  fetters  be- 
cause his  dungeon  is  low  and  dark  and  noisome?  No  ; 
he  pants  for  the  '  upper  air  '  all  the  more  aspiringly. 
The  very  consciousness  of  his  prostration  should  be 


THE    ROAD    TO    SUCCESS.  2 15 

a  spur  stimulating  one  to  raise  himself   by  all  possi- 
ble efforts." 


THE  ROAD  TO   SUCCESS. 

Again,  Mr.  Smiles  forcibly  remarks  that  "  the  road 
to  success  may  be  steep  to  climb,  but  it  puts  to  the 
proof  the  energies  of  him  who  would  reach  the  sum- 
mit. By  experience  a  man  soon  learns  how  obstacles 
are  to  be  overcome  by  grappling  with  them, — how 
soft  as  silk  the  nettle  becomes  when  it  is  boldly  grasped, 
— and  how  powerful  a  principle  of  realizing  the 
object  proposed,  is  the  moral  conviction  that  we  can 
and  will  accomplish  it.  Thus  difficulties  often  fall 
away  of  themselves,  before  the  determination  to 
overcome  them.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  if  marched 
boldly  up  to,  they  will  flee  away.  Like  thieves,  they 
often  disappear  at  a  glance.  What  looked  like  in- 
superable obstacles,  like  some  great  mountain  chain 
in  our  way,  frowning  danger  and  trial,  are  found  to 
become  practicable  when  approached,  and  paths  form- 
erly unseen,  though  they  may  be  narrow  and  diffi- 
cult, open  a  way  for  us  through  the  hills." 

Curran,  the  Irish  orator,  when  a  youth,  had  a  strong 
defect  in  his  articulation,  and  at  school  he  was  known 
as  "  stuttering  Jack  Curran."  While  he  was  en- 
gaged in  the  study  of  the  law,  and  still  struggling  to 
overcome  his  defect,  he  was  stung  into  eloquence  by 
the  sarcasms  of  a  member  of  a  debating  club,  who 
characterized  him  as  "  Orator  Mum  ;"  for,  like  Cow- 
per,  when  he  stood  up  to  speak,  Curran  had  not  on  a 
previous  occasion  been  able  to  utter  a  word.  But  the 
taunt  raised  his  pluck,  and  he  replied  with  a  triumph- 


2l6 


THE    ROAD    TO    SUCCESS. 


ant  speech.  This  accidental  discovery  in  himself  of 
the  gift  of  eloquence,  encouraged  him  to  proceed  in 
his  studies  with  additional  energy  and  vigor.  He 
corrected  his  enunciation  by  reading  aloud,  em- 
phatically and  distinctly,  the  best  passages  in  our  lit- 
erature, for  several  hours  every  day,  studying  his 
features  before  a  mirror,  and  adopting  a  method  of 
gesticulation  suited  to  his  rather  awkward  and  un- 
graceful figure.  He  also  proposed  cases  to  himself, 
which  he  detailed  with  as  much  care  as  if  he  had  been 
addressing  a  jury. 

The  well-known  author  and  publisher,  William 
Chambers,  of  Edinburgh,  thus  tells  of  his  humble 
beginning  :  "  My  education  was  that  which  is  sup- 
plied at  the  humble  parish  schools  of  Scotland  ;  and 
it  was  only  when  I  went  to  Edinburgh,  a  poor  boy, 
that  I  devoted  my  evenings,  after  the  labors  of  the 
day,  to  the  cultivation  of  that  intellect  which  the  Al- 
mighty has  given  me.  From  seven  or  eight  in  the 
morning  till  nine  or  ten  at  night,  was  I  at  my  busi- 
ness as  a  bookseller's  apprentice,  -and  it  was  only 
during  hours  after,  these,  stolen  from  sleep,  that  I 
could  devote  myself  io  study.  I  assure  you  that  I 
did  not  read  novels  ;  my  attention  was  devoted  to 
physical  science  and  other  useful  matters.  During 
that  period  I  taught  myself  French.  I  look  back  to 
those  times  with  great  pleasure,  and  am  almost  sorry 
I  have  not  to  go  through  the  same  troubles  again.  I 
reaped  more  pleasure  when  I  had  not  a  sixpence  in  my 
pocket,  studying  in  a  garret  in  Edinburgh,  than  I  now 
find  when  sitting  amidst  all  the  elegances  and  com- 
forts of  a  parlor." 

William  Cobbett  has  told  the  interesting  story  of 


THE    ROAD    TO    SUCCESS.  21  7 

how  he  learned  English  grammar,  and,  as  a  curious 
illustration  of  that  brave  man's  pluck  in  grappling 
with  a  difficulty,  we  cannot  do  better  than  quote  it 
here.  "  I  learned  grammar,"  he  said,  "  when  I  was  a 
private  soldier  on  the  pay  of  sixpence  a  day.  The 
edge  of  my  berth,  or  that  of  my  guard-bed,  was  my 
seat  to  study  in  ;  my  knapsack  was  my  bookcase  ;  a 
bit  of  board  lying  on  my  lap  was  my  writing-table ; 
and  the  task  did  not  demand  anything  like  a  year  of 
my  life.  I  had  no  money  to  purchase  candle  or  oil ; 
in  winter  time  it  was  rarely  that  I  could  get  any 
evening  light  but  that  of  the  fire,  and  only  my 
turn,  even,  of  that.  And  if  I,  under  such  circum- 
stances, and  without  parent  or  friend  to  advise  or  en- 
courage me,  accomplished  this  undertaking,  what 
excuse  can  there  be  for  any  youth,  however  poor, 
however  pressed  with  business,  or  however  circum- 
stanced as  to  room  or  other  inconveniences  ?  To 
buy  a  pen  or  sheet  of  paper  I  was  compelled  to  fore- 
go some  portion  of  food,  though  in  a  state  of  half- 
starvation  ;  I  had  no  moment  of  time  that  I  could 
call  my  own  ;  and  I  had  to  read  and  to  write  amidst 
the  talking,  laughing,  singing,  whistling,  and  brawling 
of  at  least  half  a  score  of  the  most  thoughtless  men, 
and  that,  too,  in  the  hours  of  their  freedom  from  all 
control.  Think  not  lightly  of  the  farthing  that  I  had 
to  give,  now  and  then,  for  ink,  pen,  or  paper  !  That 
farthing  was,  alas  !  a  great  sum  to  me  !  I  was  as  tall 
as  I  am  now  ;  I  had  great  health  and  great  exercise. 
The  whole  of  the  money  not  expended  for  us  at 
market,  was  twopence  a  week  for  each  man.  I  re- 
member, and  well  I  may,  that  on  one  occasion  I,  after 
all  necessary  expenses,  had,  on  a  Friday,  made  shifts 


2l8 


CAREER   OF    A    FORTUNE    HUNTER. 


to  have  a  half-penny  in  reserve,  which  I  had  destined 
for  the  purchase  of  a  red  herring  in  the  morning;  but 
when  I  pulled  off  my  clothes  at  night,  so  hungry  then 
as  to  be  hardly  able  to  endure  life,  I  found  that  I  had 
lost  my  half-penny  !  I  buried  my  head  under  the 
miserable  sheet  and  rug,  and  cried  like  a  child  !  And 
again  I  say,  if  I,  under  circumstances  like  these,  could 
encounter  and  overcome  this  task,  is  there,  can  there 
be,  in  the  whole  world,  a  youth  to  find  an  excuse  for 
the  non-performance  ?" 

CAREER  OF  A  FORTUNE  HUNTER. 

Every  student  of  American  history  will  remember 
Sir  William  Phipps,  one  of  the  early  colonial  govern- 
ors of  Massachusetts.  His  career  furnishes  a 
remarkable  example  of  the  power  of  will,  and  of  per- 
severance, in  the  pursuit  of  a  given  object.  He  was 
one  of  twenty-six  children  (twenty-one  sons  and  five 
daughters)  and  was  raised  in  the  forests  of  the  then 
province  of  Maine.  William  seems  to  have  had  a 
strong  dash  of  Danish  sea-blood  in  his  veins,  and 
did  not  take  kindly  to  the  quiet  life  of  a  shepherd 
in  which  he  spent  his  early  years.  By  nature  bold 
and  adventurous,  he  longed  to  become  a  sailor,  and 
roam  through  the  world.  He  sought  to  join  some 
ship ;  but  not  being  able  to  find  one,  he  apprenticed 
himself  to  a  ship-builder,  with  whom  he  thoroughly 
learned  his  trade,  acquiring  the  arts  of  reading  and 
writing  during  his  leisure  hours.  Having  completed 
his  apprenticeship  and  removed  to  Boston,  he  wooed 
and  married  a  widow  of  some  means,  after  which  he 
set  up  a  little  ship-building  yard  of  his  own,  built  a 


CAREER   OF    A    FORTUNE    HUNTER.  2 19 

ship,  and,  putting  to  sea  in  her,  he  engaged  in  the 
lumber  trade,  which  he  carried  on  in  a  plodding  and 
laborious  way  for  the  space  of  about  ten  years. 

It  happened  that  one  day,  whilst  passing  through 
the  crooked  streets  of  old  Boston,  he  overheard  some 
sailors  talking  to  each  other  of  a  wreck  which  had 
just  taken  place  off  the  Bahamas  ;  that  of  a  Spanish 
ship,  supposed  to  have  much  money  on  board.  His 
adventurous  spirit  was.  at  once  kindled,  and  getting 
together  a  likely  crew  without  loss  of  time,  he  set 
sail  for  the  Bahamas.  The  wreck  being  well  inshore, 
he  easily  found  it,  and  succeeded  in  recovering  a  great 
deal  of  its  cargo,  but  very  little  money;  and  the  result 
was,  that  he  barely  defrayed  his  expenses.  His  suc- 
cess had  been  such,  however,  as  to  stimulate  his 
enterprising  spirit ;  and  when  he  was  told  of  another 
and  far  more  richly  laden  vessel,  which  had  been 
wrecked  near  Port  de  la  Plata  more  than  half  a  cen- 
tury before,  he  forthwith  formed  the  resolution  of 
raising  the  wreck,  or  at  all  events  fishing  up  the 
treasure. 

Being  too  poor,  however,  to  undertake  such  an  en- 
terprise without  powerful  help,  he  set  sail  for  Eng- 
land, in  the  hope  that  he  might  there  obtain  it.  The 
fame  of  his  success  in  raising  the  wreck  off  the  Baha- 
mas had  already  preceded  him.  He  applied  direct  to 
the  government ;  and  by  his  urgent  enthusiasm,  he 
succeeded  in  overcoming  the  usual  inertia  of  official 
minds;  and  Charles  II.  eventually  placed  at  his  dis- 
posal the  "  Rose  Algier,"  a  ship  of  eighteen  guns  and 
ninety-five  men,  appointing  him  to  the  chief  com- 
mand. Phipps  then  set  sail  to  find  the  Spanish  ship 
and  fish  up  the  treasure.  He  reached  the  coast  of 


220 


CAREER    OF    A    FORTUNE    HUNTER. 


Hispaniola  in  safety;  but  how  to  find  the  sunken  ship 
was  the  great  difficulty.  The  fact  of  the  wreck  was 
more  than  fifty  years  old  ;  and  Phipps  had  only  the 
traditionary  rumors  of  the  event  to  work  upon. 
There  was  a  wide  coast  to  explore,  and  an  outspread 
ocean,  without  any  trace  whatever  of  the  wrecked 
argosy  beneath  it.  But  the  man  was  stout  in  heart, 
and  full  of  hope.  He  set  his  seamen  to  work  to  drag 
the  coast,  and  for  weeks  they  went  on  fishing  up  sea- 
weed, shingle,  and  bits  of  rock.  No  occupation 
could  be  more  trying  to  seamen,  and  they  began  to 
grumble  together,  and  to  whisper  that  the  man  in 
command  had  brought  them  on  a  fool's  errand. 

At  length  the  murmurs  spoke  aloud,  and  the  men 
broke  into  open  mutiny.  A  body  of  them  rushed 
one  day  on  to  the  quarter-deck,  and  demanded  that 
the  voyage  should  be  relinquished.  Phipps,  however, 
was  not  a  man  to  be  intimidated  ;  he  seized  the  ring- 
leaders, and  sent  the  others  back  to  their  duty.  It 
became  necessary  to  bring  the  ship  to  anchor  close  to 
a  small  island  for  the  purpose  of  repairs  ;  and,  to 
lighten  her,  the  chief  part  of  the  stores  were  landed. 
Discontent  still  increasing  among  the  crew,  a  new 
plot  was  laid  among  the  men  on  shore  to  seize  the 
ship,  throw  Phipps  overboard,  and  start  on  a  piratical 
cruise  against  the  Spaniards  in  the  South  Seas.  But 
Phipps  frustrated  their  plans,  had  the  goods  reshipped 
under  cover  of  loaded  guns,  got  rid  of  a  part  of  his 
crew,  took  on  others,  and  went  about  his  work.  Soon 
his  vessel  gave  out  and  he  was  obliged  to  return  to 
England  for  repairs.  As  he  had  been  unsuccessful, 
many  had  lost  faith  in  him,  and  he  found  it  difficult 
to  get  another  ship.  After  four  years  of  exertion, 


CAREER   OF    A    FORTUNE    HUNTER.  221 

however,  during  which  time  he  lived  in  great  poverty, 
he  succeeded  in  raising  the  requisite  means  to  start 
again.  A  company  was  formed,  in  twenty  shares,  the 
Duke  of  Albemarle,  son  of  General  Monk,  taking 
the  chief  interest  in  it,  and  subscribing  the  principal 
part  of  the  necessary  funds  for  the  enterprise. 

Phipps  proved  more  fortunate  in  his  second  voy- 
age than  in  his  first.  The  ship  arrived  without  acci- 
dent at  Port  de  la  Plata,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
reef  of  rocks  supposed  to  have  been  the  scene  of  the 
wreck.  His  first  object  was  to  build  a  stout  boat 
capable  of  carrying  eight  or  ten  oars,  in  constructing 
which  Phipps  used  the  adze  himself.  It  is  also  said 
that  he  constructed  a  machine  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
ploring the  bottom  of  the  sea,  similar  to  what 
is  now  known  as  the  Diving-Bell.  Such  a  machine 
was  found  referred  to  in  books,  but  Phipps  knew  little 
of  scientific  books,  and  therefore  may  be  said  to  have 
re-invented  the  apparatus  for  his  own  use.  He  also 
engaged  Indian  divers,  whose  feats  of  diving  for 
pearls,  and  in  submarine  operations,  were  very  re- 
markable. The  tender  and  boat  having  been  taken 
to  the  reef,  the  men  were  set  to  work,  the  diving-bell 
was  sunk,  and  the  various  modes  of  dragging  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea  were  employed  continuously  for  many 
weeks,  but  without  any  prospect  of  success.  Phipps, 
however,  held  on  valiantly,  hoping  almost  against 
hope.  At  length,  one  day,  a  sailor,  looking  over  the 
boat's  side  down  into  the  clear  water,  observed  a  curi- 
ous sea-plant  growing  in  what  appeared  to  be  the 
crevice  of  the  rock  ;  and  he  called  upon  an  Indian 
diver  to  go  down  and  fetch  it  for  him.  On  the  red 
man  coming  up  with  the  weed,  he  reported  that  a 


222 


CAREER    OF    A    FORTUNE    HUNTER 


number  of  ship's  guns  were  lying  in  the  same  place. 
The  intelligence  was  at  first  received  with  incredulity, 
but  on  further  investigation  it  proved  to  be  correct. 
Search  was  made,  and  presently  a  diver  came  up  with 
a  solid  bar  of  silver  in  his  arms.  When  Phipps  was 
shown  it,  he  exclaimed,  "Thanks  be  to  God  !  we  are 
all  made  men." 

Diving-bell  and  divers  now  went  to  work  with  a 
will,  and  in  a  few  days  treasure  was  brought  up  to  the 
value  of  ,£300,000,  with  which  Phipps  set  sail  for 
England.  On  his  arrival,  many  government  officials 
tried  to  seize  the  ship's  cargo,  and  appealed  to  the 
King  for  power.  But  the  King  replied  that  he  knew 
Phipps  to  be  an  honest  man,  and  that  he  and  his 
friends  should  have  the  whole  of  it.  Phipps'  share 
was  about  ,£20,000,  and  the  King,  to  show  his  ap- 
proval of  his  energy,  conferred  upon  him  the  honor 
of  knighthood,  and  he  became  Sir  William  Phipps, 
founding  the  house  of  Normanby.  He  died  in  Lon- 
don in  1695,  having  done  valiant  service  for  the  King 
as  a  military  leader  and  royal  ruler.  He  was  never 
ashamed  of  the  lowness  of  his  origin,  but  continually 
referred  to  the  fact  with  pride.  Often,  when  per- 
plexed with  public  business,  he  declared  it  would  be 
easier  for  him  to  go  back  to  his  broad-axe  again.  He 
left  behind  him  a  noble  character  for  honesty,  coun 
age,  and  energy. 


RESERVE    POWER.  223 


RESERVE  POWER. 


w  An  honest  soul  is  like  a  ship  at  sea, 
That  rides  at  ease  when  the  ocean's  calm, 
But  when  it  rages  and  the  wind  blows  high, 
She  cuts  her  way  with  skill  and  majesty." 

— JOANNA  BAILLIE. 


man  can  be  self-collected  and  confi- 
dent of  victory,  unless  he  knows  that  he 
has  reserve  forces  which  he  can  summon 
to  his  aid  at  a  moment's  call.  The  man 
who  is  poor  within  and  knows  that  he  is 
poor,  is  always  ill  at  ease,  and  ever  fear- 
ful of  a  surprise  or  an  ambuscade  from  some  real 
or  imaginary  foe.  Nothing  will  give  others  such 
confidence  in  a  man  as  to  have  him  create  the  im- 
pression by  his  manner  that  there  is  more  in  him 
than  he  constantly  gives  out  ;  and  in  order  to  create 
this  impression,  lawfully  and  properly,  there  must 
actually  be  in  him  more  resources  than  he  daily  ex- 
pends. Therefore,  unless  some  great  prize  is  before 
you,  or  some  all-important  issue  is  at  stake — some- 
thing that  demands  the  exercise  of  every  faculty  you 
possess,  and  the  putting  forth  of  all  your  strength — 
it  will  be  better  to  husband  your  resources  and  have 
a  little  accumulated  fund  of  power,  ability  or  knowl- 
edge on  hand,  than  to  work  up  to  the  full  measure  of 


224 


RESERVE    POWER. 


your  capacity  each  Hay  and  hour,  and  then,  when 
some  unlooked-for  crisis  comes  on  and  you  need 
extra  force,  find  yourself  a  physical  or  intellectual 
bankrupt,  and  in  imminent  danger  of  collapse. 

An  old  teamster  used  to  say  to  his  sons,  when  they 
had  a  peculiarly  long  and  hard  drive  to  make  in  a 
given  time:  "Boys,  you'll  be  sure  to  get  there,  if  you 
dont  drive  too  hard  when  you  first  start"  And 
there  is  much  of  good  sound  philosophy  wrapped  up 
in  the  old  man's  pithy  remark.  As  another  has 
observed,  "  To  serve  a  long  and  weary  apprenticeship 
to  any  calling,  to  spend  years  in  training  the  faculties 
till  one  has  become  an  athlete,  costs,  we  know, 
patience  and  self-denial  ;  but  is  it  not  the  cheapest  in 
the  end  ?  Does  not  all  experience  show  that  in  the 
long  run  it  is  easier  to  be  than  to  seem, — to  acquire 
power,  than  to  hide  the  lack  of  it  ?  Was  there  ever 
a  lazy  boy  at  school,  or  student  in  college,  who  did 
not  take  infinitely  more  pains  to  dodge  recitations 
and  to  mask  his  ignorance  than  would  have  been 
necessary  to  master  his  lessons,  however  dry  or 
crabbed  ?  Is  there  a  mechanic  who  scrimps  his  work, 
that  does  not  cheat  himself  in  the  end  ?  Depend 
upon  it,  nothing  is  more  exhausting  than  the  shifts  to 
cover  up  ignorance,  the  endless  contrivances  to  make 
nothing  pass  for  something,  tinsel  for  gold,  shallow- 
ness  for  depth,  emptiness  for  fullness,  cunning  for 
wisdom,  sham  for  reality." 

When  a  man  once  breaks  down,  or    "plays  out"- 
to  use   a   common  expression — his    career  is    neces- 
sarily arrested,  and  he  becomes   like  a  steamship  in 
mid-ocean  with    her    fires    out  or   engines  disabled. 
The   great  criminal  lawyer,   Rufus  Choate,    was   an 


RESERVE    POWER.  225 

example  of  this  kind.  He  persisted  in  transgressing 
the  laws  of  his  physical  and  mental  natures,  worked 
away  like  a  blazing  locomotive  at  every  case  he  took 
hold  of,  whether  petty  or  important,  and  died  an 
exhausted,  worn-out  man  when  he  should  have  been 
in  the  very  fullness  and  ripeness  of  his  years.  There- 
fore, we  say  to  every  worker  in  the  world's  great 
hive,  husband  your  resources,  accumulate  power, 
facts  and  wisdom  faster  than  you  can  expend  them, 
and  always  try  to  be  richer  and  stronger  within,  than 
you  appear  on  the  surface. 

It  is  said  that  all  machinists  construct  engines  with 
reserve  power.  If  the  force  required  is  four-horse, 
they  make  a  six-horse  power,  so  that  the  machine  will 
work  easily  and  last  long.  In  like  manner,  the  man 
who  has  strength  to  do  ten  hours'  work  a  day, 
physical  or  intellectual,  should  do  but  seven  or  eight ; 
and  then  he  may  hope  to  accumulate  a  reserve  fund 
of  energy  which  will  not  only  round  out  his  frame  to 
fair  proportions,  and  enable  him  to  toil  with  ease, 
cheerfulness  and  alacrity,  but  furnish  a  capital,  a  fund 
in  bank,  upon  which  he  can  draw  heavily  in  any 
emergency,  when  called  on  to  do  two  days'  work  in 
one.  Without  this  capital,  he  will  not  only  do  his 
work  painfully,  forever  tugging  at  the  oar,  but  he 
will  be  incapable  of  increasing  the  strain  upon  his 
powers,  however  urgent  the  necessity  ;  he  cannot 
put  a  pound  more  of  pressure  upon  the  engine  with- 
out an  explosion. 

There  are  indeed  "some  persons  of  dull  and 
phlegmatic  temperament — slow  coaches,  that  jog  on 
at  a  lazy  pace — who  need  no  note  of  alarm.  They 
need  the  whip,  not  the  rein  ;  and  the  utmost  speed 


226 


ACCUMULATION. 


you  can  get  out  of  them  will  only  call  their  muscles 
into  healthy  activity.  But  there  is  another  class,— 
the  fiery,  earnest,  zealous  men,  the  nervous  men, 
tremulous  as  the  aspen,  enthusiasts  in  their  callings, 
— who  need  to  economise  their  nerve-force,  unless 
they  would  prematurely  exhaust  themselves  and  sink 
into  an  early  grave.  Such  men  need  to  be  reminded 
that  they  have  but  a  limited  fund  of  strength,  upon 
which  they  are  making  draughts  with  every  breath 
they  draw,  and  every  word  they  utter,  and  that 
therefore  they  cannot  guard  too  jealously  against  any 
waste  of  their  nerve-power." 

ACCUMULATION. 

The  first  strong  word  of  advice  to  every  young 
man  who  wants  to  be  successful,  is,  accumulate.  If 
you  expect  to  lead  a  professional  life,  you  cannot 
have  too  large  a  store  of  knowledge  and  facts  laid  up. 
It  often  seems  to  a  student  in  college  that  he  is 
merely  wasting  his  time  by  going  through  with  the 
routine  exercises  of  the  class-room,  week  after  week, 
and  year  after  year  ;  that  the  studies  he  is  pursuing 
can  never  do  him  much,  if  any,  good,  in  after  life  ; 
but  he  will  find  to  his  sweet  satisfaction,  when  the 
duties  of  that  after-life  press  upon  him,  and  he  has 
no  time  to  hunt  up  facts  and  opinions,  that  not  a  day 
diligently  spent  in  study  in  early  years,  was  lost;  that 
all  resources  of  an  intellectual  nature  accumulated 
when  thought  and  memory  were  fresh  and  vigorous, 
were  held  by  the  mind  as  a  sort  of  capital  stock  and 
came  into  use  exactly  when  most  wanted.  Many  a 
young  man  has  ruined  himself  for  life  because  he  too 


ACCUMULATION.  22; 

soon  thought  he  knew  it  all  and  could  do  anything, 
and  then  found  out  his  mistake  only  when  it  was  too 
late  to  recover  the  ground  so  foolishly  lost. 

Everybody  knows  that  in  the  composition  of  an 
army  one  of  the  first  essentials  of  effective  action  is  a 
well-constituted,  powerful,  reserved  force.  It  consists 
of  picked  men,  trained  veterans,  with  a  cool,  sagacious 
commander,  who  can  be  thrown  at  any  moment  into 
the  very  thick  of  the  fight,  to  sustain  a  faltering 
legion,  or  to  turn  a  doubtful  combat  into  a  decisive 
victory.  The  lack  of  such  a  force,  or  its  lack  of 
numbers  and  discipline,  has  often  made  the  difference 
between  a  battle  won  and  a  battle  lost.  Who  that 
is  familiar  with  the  campaigns  of  Napoleon  does  not 
remember  how  often  the  trembling  scale  was  turned, 
and  the  exultant  legions  of  the  enemy  were  rolled 
back,  just  as  victory  was  about  "  to  sit  eagle-winged 
on  their  crests,"  by  the  resistless  charge  of  the 
Imperial  Guard  ?  So  also  at  the  bar,  in  the  senate, 
in  the  pulpit,  in  the  field  of  business,  in  every  sphere 
of  human  activity,  he  only  organizes  victory  and 
commands  success  behind  whose  van  and  corps  of 
battle  is  heard  the  steady  tramp  of  the  army  of  the 
reserve. 

Says  Dr.  W.  W.  Patton,  "The  merchant  is  in  a  dan- 
gerous position  whose  means  are  in  goods  trusted  out 
over  the  country  on  long  credits,  and  who  in  an 
emergency  has  no  money  in  the  bank  upon  which  to 
draw.  A  heavy  deposit,  subject  to  a  sight-draft,  is 
the  only  position  of  strength.  And  he  only  is  intel- 
lectually strong  who  has  made  heavy  deposits  in  the 
bank  of  memory,  and  can  draw  upon  his  faculties  at 
any  time,  according  to  the  necessities  of'  the  case." 


228  COOLNESS    AND    COURAGE. 

There  is  no  mental  reservoir  of  such  capacity  that 
will  not  be  empty  at  last,  if  we  perpetually  draw  from 
it  and  never  pour  into  it.  When  old  Dr.  Bellamy 
was  asked  by  a  young  clergyman  for  advice  about  the 
composition  of  his  sermons,  he  replied:  "  Fill  up 
the  cask  !  fill  up  the  cask  !  fill  up  the  cask  !  and  then 
if  you  tap  it  anywhere  you  will  get  a  good  stream. 
But  if  you  put  in  but  little,  it  will  dribble,  dribble, 
dribble,  and  you  must  tap,  tap,  tap,  and  then  you  get 
but  a  small  stream,  after  all." 

COOLNESS  AND  COURAGE. 

The  second  point  to  be  emphasized  is,  keep  cool, 
have  your  resources  well  in  hand,  and  reserve  your 
strength  until  the  proper  time  arrives  to  exert  it. 
There  is  hardly  any  trait  of  character  or  faculty  of 
intellect  more  valuable  than  the  power  of  self-posses- 
sion, or  presence  of  mind.  The  man  who  is  always 
"  going  off  "  unexpectedly,  like  an  old  rusty  firearm, 
who  is  easily  fluttered  and  discomposed  at  the  appear- 
ance of  some  unforeseen  emergency;  who  has  no  con- 
trol over  himself  or  his  powers,  is  just  the  one  who  is 
always  in  trouble,  and  never  successful  or  happy.  It 
is  very  unfortunate  when  men  lose  their  talents,  wit, 
or  fancy,  at  any  sudden  call.  Better  be  like  the 
Frenchman,  M.  Tissenet,  who  had  learned  among  the 
Indians  to  understand  their  language,  and  who,  coming 
upon  a  wild  party  of  Illinois,  overheard  them  say  that 
they  would  scalp  him.  He  then  said  to  them,  "Will 
you  scalp  me?  Here  is  my  scalp,"  and  confounded 
them  by  lifting  a  little  periwig  he  wore.  He  then  ex- 
plained to  them  that  he  was  a  great  medicine-man, 


COOLNESS    AND   COURAGE.  229 

and  that  they  did  great  wrong  in  wishing  to  harm 
him,  who  carried  them  all  in  his  heart.  So  he  opened 
his  shirt  a  little  and  showed  to  each  of  the  savages  in 
turn  the  reflection  of  his  own  eyeball  in  a  small 
pocket  mirror  which  he  had  hung  next  to  his  skin. 
He  assured  them  that  if  they  should  provoke  him  he 
would  burn  up  their  rivers  and  their  forests ;  and, 
taking  from  his  portmanteau  a  small  phial  of  white 
brandy  (which  they  believed  to  be  water),  he  burned 
it  before  their  eyes.  Then  taking  up  a  chip  of  dry 
pine,  he  drew  a  burning  glass  from  his  pocket  and 
set  the  chip  on  fire.  Of  course,  his  presence  of  mind 
and  rare  courage  saved  his  life. 

The  great  world  of  nature  is  always  calm  and  silent 
when  performing  some  of  her  mightiest  operations, 
but  the  effect  of  what  she  does  is  always  deepened 
and  intensified  by  the  sense  of  greater  power  which 
lies  behind.  And  the  same  is  true  of  the  higher  works 
of  art.  It  has  also  been  truly  said  that  the  great 
orator  is  not  he  who  exhausts  his  subject  and  himself 
at  every  effort,  but  he  whose  expressions  suggest  a 
region  of,  thought,  a  dim  vista  of  imagery,  an  oceanic 
depth  of  feeling,  beyond  what  is  compassed  by  his 
sentences.  He  affects  you  hardly  less  by  what  he 
leaves  out  than  than  by  what  he  puts  in.  So  the 
military  leader  who  brings  all  his  troops  to  the  front, 
has  no  resource  when  beaten  ;  every  defeat  is  a  Water- 
loo. Not  so  with  the  man  who  has  always  battalions 
in  reserve ;  he  fights  more  and  more  valiantly  after 
each  overthrow.  Like  Blucher  at  Ligny,  he  may  be 
forced  back  from  his  position  ;  but  he  will  retreat  in 
good  order,  and  in  two  days  more  the  thunder  of  his 
guns  will  be  heard  at  Waterloo,  sending  death  and 


230 


COOLNESS    AND    COURAGE. 


dismay  into  the  ranks  of  his  late  victors.  Like 
Washington,  he  may  lose  more  battles  than  he  wins  ; 
but  he  will  organize  victory  out  of  defeat,  and  tri- 
umph in  the  end.  Napoleon  said  of  Massenathat  he 
was  not  himself  until  the  battle  began  to  go  against 
him  ;  then — when  the  dead  began  to  fall  in  windrows 
around  him — awoke  his  marvelous  power  of  combina- 
tion, and  he  put  on  terror  and  victory  as  a  robe. 

We  all  remember  the  gallant  conduct,  admirable 
coolness  and  resources  of  General  Sheridan  when  he 
found  his  army  retreating  before  the  victorious  Early. 
"  O,  sir,"  said  the  General  in  command,  "we  are 
beaten  !"  "No,  sir,"  was  the  reply;  "you  are  beaten, 
but  this  army  is  not  beaten  ;"  and  then,  seizing  his 
army  as  Jupiter  his  thunderbolt,  he  hurled  it  upon 
the  enemy.  In  like  manner,  the  great  men  of  history 
are  those  who  impress  us  with  the  fact  that  they 
themselves  are  greater  than  their  deeds,  and  that 
they  have  mightier  and  vaster  resources  back,  than 
any  which  they  ordinarily  display.  This  latent  force 
acts  directly  by  presence,  and  without  means.  Their 
victories  are  won  by  demonstration  of  superiority, 
not  by  crossing  of  bayonets. 

It  has  been  often  remarked  that  a  speech  never 
seems  truly  great  unless  there  is  a  man  behind  it  who 
is  greater  than  the  speech.  It  was  this  which  gave 
such  prodigious  power  to  the  words  of  Chatham, 
and  made  them  smite  his  adversaries  like  an  electric 
battery.  Men  who  listened  to  his  oratory  felt  that 
he  "  put  forth  not  half  his  strength," — that  the 
man  was  far  greater  than  anything  he  said.  It  was 
the  magnetism  of  his  person,  the  haughty  assumption 
of  superiority,  the  scowl  of  his  imperial  brow,  the 


DANIEL    WEBSTER.  23! 

ominous  growl  of  his  voice,  "like  thunder  heard 
remote,"  and,  above  all,  the  evidence  which  these  fur- 
nished of  an  imperious  and  overwhelming  will,  that 
abashed  the  proudest  peers  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
and  made  his  words  perform  the  office  of  stabs  and 
blows. 

DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

But  the  most  memorable  illustration  of  the  value 
of  coolness,  courage  and  reserved  force  is  furnished 
by  the  debate  in  the  United  States  Senate  in  1830, 
concerning  the  sale  of  the  public  lands.  "  The 
occasion,"  says  a  thoughtful  writer,  "  was  not  a  great 
one ;  the  debate  upon  it  for  some  days  dragged  heav- 
ily. The  vast  reserve  power  of  one  man  made  it  the 
event  of  our  history  for  a  generation.  The  second 
speech  of  Mr.  Hayne,  to  which  Mr.  Webster  was 
called  upon  to  reply,  was  able  and  brilliant,  its  con- 
stitutional argument  specious,  its  attack  upon  New 
England  and  upon  Mr.  Webster  sharp,  even  to  bitter- 
ness. But  Mr.  Hayne  did  not  understand  this  matter 
of  reserved  power.  He  had  seen  Mr.  Webster's  van 
and  corps  of  battle,  but  had  not  heard  the  firm  and 
measured  tread  behind.  It  was  a  decisive  moment 
in  Mr.  Webster's  career.  He  had  no  time  to  impress 
new  forces,  scarcely  time  to  burnish  his  armor. 
All  eyes  were  turned  to  him  ;  some  of  his  friends 
were  depressed  and  anxious.  He  was  calm  as  a 
summer's  morning ;  calm,  his  friends  thought, 
even  to  indifference.  But  his  calmness  was  the 
repose  of  conscious  power,  the  hush  of  nature 
before  the  storm.  He  had  measured  his  strength. 


232  DANIEL   WEBSTER. 

He  was  in  possession  of  himself.  He  knew  the  com- 
position of  his  'army  of  the  reserve.'  He  had  the 
eye  of  a  great  commander,  and  he  took  in  the  whole 
field  at  a  glance.  He  had  the  prophetic  eye  of  logic, 
and  he  saw  the  end  from  the  beginning.  The  exor- 
dium itself  was  the  prophecy,  the  assurance  of  vic- 
tory. Men  saw  the  sun  of  Austerlitz,  and  felt  that 
the  Imperial  Guard  was  moving  on  to  the  conflict. 
He  came  out  of  the  conflict  with  the  immortal  name 
of  the  Defender  of  the  Constitution. 

"  Of  this  speech,  and  of  the  mode  of  its  delivery, 
one  of  the  greatest  of  our  orators  has  said,  '  It  has 
been  my  fortune  to  hear  some  of  the  ablest  speeches 
of  the  greatest  living  orators  on  both  sides  of  the 
water ;  but  I  must  confess  I  never  heard  of  anything 
which  so  completely  realized  my  conception  of  what 
Demosthenes  was  when  he  delivered  the  Oration  for 
the  Crown.'  I  venture  to  add  that,  taking  into  view 
the  circumstances  under  which  the  speech  was  de- 
livered, and  especially  the  brief  time  for  preparation, 
the  importance  of  the  subject,  the  breadth  of  its 
views,  the  strength  and  clearness  of  its  reasoning, 
the  force  and  beauty  of  its  style,  its  keen  wit,  its  re- 
pressed but  subduing  passion,  its  lofty  strains  of 
eloquence,  the  audience  to  which  it  was  addressed 
(a  more  than  Roman  audience),  its  effect  upon  that 
audience  and  the  larger  audience  of  a  grateful  and 
admiring  country,  history  has  no  nobler  example  of 
reserved  power  brought  at  once  and  effectively  into 
action.  The  wretched  sophistries  of  nullification 
and  secession  were  swept  before  his  burning  eloquence 
as  the  dry  grass  is  swept  by  the  fire  of  the  prairies." 
In  describing  his  feelings  while  making  his  speech 


DANIEL    WEBSTER.  233 

we  have  just  noticed,  Mr.  Webster  is  reported  to 
have  said  to  a  friend  :  "  I  felt  as  if  everything  I 
had  ever  seen  or  read  or  heard  was  floating  before 
me  in  one  grand  panorama,  and  I  had  little  else  to 
do  than  to  reach  up  and  cull  a  thunderbolt,  and  hurl 
it  at  him  ! " 

Many  years  ago  a  Mr.  Whipple,  of  Rhode  Island, 
had  occasion  to  consult  Daniel  Webster  touching  an 
important  law-case, — a  case  in  which  were  presented 
many  cross-questions  of  law  and  equity,  and  so  in- 
volved that  it  required  days  and  weeks  of  hard  labor 
to  discover  a  channel-way  over  its  shoals,  and  amid 
its  rocks.  Meeting  Mr.  Whipple  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Webster  by  dinner-time  had  threaded  all 
the  avenues  and  crosspaths  of  the  labyrinth,  and 
gave  an  opinion  so  clear  and  comprehensive  that  Mr. 
Whipple  was  constrained  to  ask  him  what  had  been 
his  system  of  mental  culture.  In  reply,  Mr.  Webster 
observed,  that  it  is  a  law  of  our  natures  that  the  body 
or  the  mind  that  labors  constantly  must  necessarily 
labor  moderately.  He  instanced  the  race-horse, 
which,  by  occasional  efforts  in  which  all  its  power  is 
exerted,  followed  by  periods  of  entire  rest,  would,  in 
time,  add  very  largely  to  his  speed ;  and  the  great 
walkers  or  runners  of  our  race,  who,  from  small  be- 
ginnings, when  fifteen  miles  a  day  fatigued  them, 
would,  in  the  end,  walk  off  fifty  miles  at  the  rate  of 
five  or  six  miles  an  hour.  He  also  mentioned  the 
London  porter,  who,  at  the  first,  staggering  under 
the  load  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred 
pounds,  would  in  time  walk  off  with  six  or  eight 
hundred  pounds  with  apparent  ease.  The  same  law 
governs  the  mind.  When  employed  at  all,  its  powers 


-\:4  £SSTER. 

should  be  exerted  to  the  utmost    Its  fat  .mid  be 

followed  by  its  entire  rest     Mr.  \\ 
whatever  mental  occupation  employed  him.  he  put 
forth  all  his  power,  and  when  his  mental  vision  tx\ 
to  obscure,  he  ceased  entirely,  and  resorted  to  some 
amusement  or  light  business  as  a  relaxation. 

Dr.  Mathews  has  well  observed  that  "we  li\ 
an  age  of  bustle  and  excitement ;    the  click  of  the 
telegraph,  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive,  the  whirr  of 
the  machinery,  is  ever  in  our  ears.     The  tendency  of 
the  times  is  to  force  every  man  of  ability  inr     g 
outward  activity,  and  thereby  in  many  cas  .am 

up  and  divert  to  the  turning  of  this  mill  or  that  the 
stream  which,  if  left  unbroken,  would  have  gathc 
volume  enough  to  fertilize  a  vast  tract  of  thought. 
Besides  this,  in  our  large  tov  d  man 

is  beset  with  a  multiplicity  of  social  enjoyments  and 
excitements,  the  very  waste-pipes  of  spiritual  pow 
and  the  energies  of  the  brain,  instead  of  formi 
fund-  that  is  continually   deepening  by  influx  from 
secret  sources,  are  diffused  and  trivial: 

Add  to  this  the  fact  that  the  Americans  are  the  m 
impatient  people  under  the  sun, — that  we  are  not 
content  to  wait  through  long  and  wean  years  for  the 
fruits  of  our  toil,  but,  in  the  stockjobbers'  phrase,  are 
anxious  4to  realize*  at  once, — and  can  we  wonder 
that  so  few  of  us  accumulate  the  reserve  power 
which  is  indispensable  if  we  would  do  anything 
worthy  of  our  faculties?" 


BUSINESS   TRAITS  235 


BUSINESS  TRAITS. 


His  words  are  bonds,  his  oaths  are  oracles 
.ove  sincere,  his  thoughts  immaculate; 
His  heart  as  far  from  fraud  as  heaven  from  earth.** 

— SHAKESPERE. 

«  Real  glory 

Springs  from  the  silent  conquest  of  ourselves, 
And  without  that  the  conqueror  is  naught 
But  the  veriest  slave." 


HERE  are  a  number  of  valuable  traits  of 
character,  qualities  of  mind,  and  habits  of 
life,  which,  when  grouped  together,  go  a 
great  ways  toward  making  up  the  suc- 
cessful man  of  business;  and  some  of 
these  we  will  now  mention  and  illustrate. 
i  first  we  place  the  trait  called 

DECISION. 

Many  a  business  man  has  made  his  fortune  by 
promptly  deciding  at  some  nice  juncture  to  expose 
himself  to  a  considerable  risk.  To  know  when  to 
sacrifice  a  little  to  win  a  great  deal,  when  to  abandon 
important  minor  objects  to  accomplish  a  great  end, 
exacts  the  soundest  judgment,  and  the  decision  has 
sometimes  to  be  made  in  a  moment's  thought. 


236  DECISION. 

In  one  respect,  this  trait  is  similar  to  that  of 
"  Force  of  Will,"  which  has  previously  been  dis- 
cussed. Still,  there  is  an  important  difference  be- 
tween them.  We  stated  in  that  chapter  that  the 
four  principal  elements  entering  into  the  composition 
of  a  well-balanced  and  perfectly-furnished  man,  were 
a  sound  body,  a  large  brain,  a  strong  will,  and  a  good 
heart — the  will  being  the  President  or  Executive 
force  over  all.  In  a  man  of  decision,  however,  the 
will  occupies  only  the  second  post  of  honor,  and 
Brain  comes  to  the  front.  In  plain  language,  this 
trait  of  character  consists  in  the  power  of  making  up 
one's  mind  on  any  question  which  arises,  instantly, 
intelligently,  and  firmly.  Neither  one  of  these 
three  characteristics  can  be  left  out.  If  a  man  stops 
and  hesitates  when  he  ought  to  act  quickly,  he  is  not, 
and  cannot  be,  a  man  of  decision.  If  he  decides 
blindly  or  rashly,  it  will  be  equally  fatal  with  the  first 
defect.  If  he  decides,  and  then  repents,  and  then 
re-decides,  he  is  also  unstable  and  unreliable.  So 
that  all  three  of  the  ingredients  mentioned  must 
enter  into  each  decisive  act,  in  order  to  make  it 
decisive. 

As  we  said  before,  the  will  in  this  act  only  takes 
the  second  place  ;  it  is  the  brain  which  comes  into 
play  first  in  determining  upon  any  given  course,  and 
then  after  one's  mind  is  made  up,  the  intellect  hands 
over  the  matter  to  the  will  for  execution,  just  as  a 
general  on  the  field  gives  an  order  to  his  aid-de-camp 
to  carry  out.  This  previous  act  of  the  mind  is  called 
resolution ;  as  Churchill  puts  it, 

"  Men  make  resolves,  and  pass  into  decrees 
The  motions  of  the  mind." 


DECISION.  237 

To  be  a  resolute  man,  is  to  be  a  brave  man,  a  de- 
termined man,  and  a  far-seeing  man.  Indeed,  there 
is  hardly  any  intellectual  exercise  which  is  more 
difficult,  or  of  a  higher  nature,  than  this  power  of 
instant,  intelligent,  and  firm  resolve,  which  is  the  first 
step  toward  exercising  decision  of  character.  It 
requires  both  insight  and  foresight ;  a  knowledge  of 
men  and  of  things,  and  of  laws  and  forces  in  nature 
and  life  ;  that  prophetic  power  so  happily  described 
by  Philip  James  Bailey,  when  he  says  : 

"  There  are  points  from  which  we  can  command  our  life; 
When  the  soul  sweeps  the  future  like  a  glass; 
And  coming  things  full-freighted  with  our  fate, 
Jut  out  on  the  dark  offing  of  the  mind." 

One  writer  has  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that*"  decision 
of  mind,  like  vigor  of  body,  is  a  gift  of  God.  It 
cannot  be  created  by  human  effort."  But  then,  ap- 
parently frightened  at  the  boldness  and  sweeping 
nature  of  his  declaration,  he  adds :  "  Every  man 
has  the  germ  of  this  quality,  which  can  be  cultivated 
by  favorable  circumstances  and  motives  presented  to 
the  mind  ;  and  by  method  and  order  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  his  duties  or  tasks,  he  may  by  habit  greatly 
augment  his  will-power,  or  beget  a  frame  of  mind  so 
nearly  resembling  resolution  that  it  would  be  difficult 
to  distinguish  between  the  two." 

But  the  confusion  in  this  writer's  thought  arises 
from  his  imperfect  analysis,  from  not  distinguishing 
between  resolution  as  the  previous  act  of  intellect, 
and  will-power  as  the  subsequent  executive  force  of 
the  mind.  John  Foster,  in  his  celebrated  essay, 
comes  nearer  the  truth  when  he  says  :  "Could  the 


DECISION. 


histories  of  all  the  persons  remarkable  for  decisive 
character  be  known,  it  would  be  found  that  the 
majority  of  them  have  possessed  great  constitutional 
firmness.  By  this  is  not  meant  an  exemption  from 
disease  and  pain,  nor  any  certain  measure  of  me- 
chanical strength,  but  a  tone  of  vigor,  the  opposite 
to  lassitude,  and  adapted  to  great  exertion  and 
endurance." 

So  much,  then,  for  the  definition  of  the  nature  of 
this  trait  of  character ;  now  concerning  its  import- 
ance there  will  be  no  question.  A  hesitating,  unde- 
cided man  is  invariably  pushed  aside  in  the  race  of 
life.  "Many  men,"  says  Carlyle,  "  long  for  the  mer- 
chandise of  life,  yet  would  fain  keep  the  price,  and  so 
stand  chaffering  with  fate  in  vexatious  altercation,  till 
the  night  shuts  in,  and  the  fair  is  over."  Sidney 
Smith  has  well  and  wittily  said,  that  "  in  order  to 
do  anything  in  this  world  that  is  worth  doing,  we 
must  not  stand  shivering  on  the  bank  and  thinking 
of  the  cold  and  the  danger,  but  jump  in  and  scram- 
ble through  as  well  as  we  can.  It  will  not  do  to  be 
perpetually  calculating  and  adjusting  nice  chances  ;  it 
did  all  very  well  before  the  flood,  when  a  man  could 
consult  his  friends  upon  an  intended  publication  for  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years,  and  then  live  to  see  its  suc- 
cess for  six  or  seven  centuries  afterward  ;  but  at 
present  a  man  waits,  and  doubts,  and  hesitates,  and 
consults  his  brother,  and  his  uncle,  and  his  first-cous- 
ins, and  his  particular  friends,  till  one  day  he  finds 
that  he  is  sixty-five  years  of  age, — that  he  has  lost  so 
much  time  in  consulting  first-cousins  and  particular 
friends,  that  he  has  no  more  time  left  to  follow  their 
advice."  There  are  many  cases  in  which  the  element 


PRESENCE   OF    MIND.  239 

of  decision  is  acquired  in  after  years  by  those  who 
come  to  make  a  study  of  the  faculties  and  powers  of 
the  mind,  and  put  them  to  the  test  in  the  region  of 
activity. 

PRESENCE    OF   MIND. 

Nearly  every  great  movement,  and  especially  every 
great  battle  in  the  world,  has  turned  on  one  or  two 
rapid  movements  executed  amid  the  whirl  of  smoke 
and  the  thunder  of  guns.  Napoleon  always  calcu- 
lated the  value  of  moments,  and  won  a  battle  once 
by  sending  his  troops  to  a  given  point  ten  minutes  be- 
fore the  enemy  came  up.  At  the  celebrated  battle  of 
Rivoli  the  day  seemed  on  the  point  of  being  decided 
against  him.  He  saw  the  critical  state  of  affairs,  and 
instantly  formed  his  resolution.  He  dispatched  a 
flag  to  the  Austrian  headquarters,  with  proposals  for 
an  armistice.  Napoleon  seized  the  precious  mo- 
ments, and,  while  amusing  the  enemy  with  mock  ne- 
gotiations, re-arranged  his  line  of  battle,  changed  his 
front,  and  in  a  few  moments  was  ready  to  renounce 
the  farce  of  discussion  for  the  stern  arbitrament  of 
arms.  The  splendid  victory  of  Rivoli  was  the 
result. 

Another  signal  example  of  this  promptness  of 
decision  occurs  at  an  earlier  date  in  Napoleon's  career. 
He  had  made  his  wondrous  burst  into  Northern  Italy, 
and  had  driven  the  Austrian  troops  before  him  like 
sheep.  Hardly  anything  was  wanting  to  the  con- 
quest of  Lombardy  but  the  taking  of  Mantua,  to 
which  he  devoted  10,000  of  his  troops.  At  this  junc- 
ture he  heard  of  the  coming  of  a  new  Austrian  army 
consisting  of  60,000  men,  while  he  had  in  all  but 


240 


PRESENCE    OF    MIND. 


40,000.  By  marching  quickly  along  the  banks  of  the 
Lake  of  Garda  they  cut  off  his  retreat  to  Milan,  and 
thus  greatly  endangered  his  position ;  but,  as  the 
Austrians  came  on  both  sides  of  the  lake,  20,000  on 
the  one  and  40,000  on  the  other,  Napoleon  most 
wisely  determined  to  take  a  position  at  the  end  of  the 
lake,  so  as  to  be  between  the  two  parties  when  they 
should  attempt  to  unite.  "  By  rapidly  forming  a 
main  mass,"  says  the  historian,  M.  Thiers,  "  the 
French  might  overpower  20,000  who  had  turned  the 
lake,  and  immediately  after  return  to  the  40,000  who 
had  defiled  between  the  lake  and  the  Adige.  But,  to 
occupy  the  extremity  of  the  lake  it  was  necessary  to 
call  in  all  the  troops  from  Legnago,  and  from  Man- 
tua, for  so  extensive  a  line  was  no  longer  tenable. 
This  involved  a  great  sacrifice,  for  Mantua  had  been 
besieged  during  two  months,  a  considerable  battering 
train  had  been  transported  before  it,  the  fortress  was 
on  the  point  of  capitulating,  and  by  allowing  it  to  be 
re-victualed,  the  fruits  of  these  vigorous  efforts,  an 
almost  assured  prey,  would  escape  his  grasp. 

"Napoleon,  however,  did  not  hesitate.  Between  the 
two  important  objects  he  had  the  sagacity  to  seize  the 
most  important  and  sacrifice  it  to  the  other, — a  sim- 
ple resolution  in  itself,  but  one  which  displays  not 
only  the  great  captain,  but  the  great  man.  It  is  not 
in  war  merely;  it  occurs  in  politics,  and  in  all  the  sit- 
uations of  life,  that  men  encounter  two  objects,  and, 
aiming  to  compass  both,  fail  in  each.  Bonaparte 
possessed  the  rare  and  decisive  vigor  which  prompts 
at  once  the  choice  and  the  sacrifice.  Had  he  persist- 
ed in  guarding  the  whole  course  of  the  Mincio,  from 
the  extremity  of  the  Lake  of  Garda  to  Mantua,  he 


PRESENCE    OF    MIND.  241 

would  have  been  pierced.  By  concentrating  on  Man- 
tua to  cover  it,  he  would  have  had  70,000  men  to 
cope  with  at  the  same  time, — 60,000  in  front,  and 
10,000  in  the  rear.  He  sacrificed  Mantua,  and  con- 
centrated at  the  point  of  the  Lake  of  Garda."  The 
results  of  this  rapid  decision  were  a  brilliant  reward 
of  the  masterly  genius  he  had  displayed.  Meeting 
first  the  corps  of  20,000  under  Quashdanovich,  he 
drove  back  its  vanguard  ;  whereupon  the  Austrian 
general,  surprised  to  find  everywhere  imposing  masses 
of  the  French,  was  alarmed,  and  resolved  to  halt  till 
he  should  hear  from  the  other  corps  under  Wurmser. 
Guessing  what  was  passing  in  the  Austrian  general's 
mind,  Napoleon  turned  to  meet  the  other  corps. 
Wurmser  had  divided  his  force,  himself  marching  on 
to  Mantua,  and  leaving  20,000  behind  to  capture 
Napoleon.  Their  army  advanced  with  widespread 
wings,  as  if  to  envelop  the  French,  but  Napoleon 
broke  through  its  center  and  compelled  it  to  retreat. 
Other  battles  followed,  and  in  six  days  the  Austrian 
generals  were  flying  back  to  the  Tyrol,  having  lost 
the  kingdom  of  Lombardy  and  20,000  men. 

At  the  close  of  his  career,  Napoleon  himself  made 
the  same  mistake  which  the  Austrians  did,  and  wasted 
precious  hours  before,  on,  and  after  the  day  of  Ligny, 
and  on  the  morning  of  Waterloo,  when  he  should 
have  fallen  on  the  enemy  like  a  thunderbolt. 
Wellington,  on  the  other  hand,  who  never  lost  a  bat- 
tle, manifested  the  same  decisiveness  and  prompti- 
tude to  the  very  end  of  his  military  life.  An  amus- 
ing instance  of  the  old  Duke's  presence  of  mind  and 
coolness  in  time  of  danger  is  the  reply  which  he  is 
said  to  have  made  to  the  captain  of  a  vessel  in  which 

16 


242 


WISDOM. 


he  was  sailing.  There  was  a  terrible  storm,  and  the 
captain,  'fearing  shipwreck,  came  to  him  in  great 
affright  and  said,  "  It  will  soon  be  all  over  with  us." 
"Very  well,"  replied  the  Duke,  "then  I  shall  not 
take  off  my  boots."  Again,  when  a  certain  commis- 
sary-general complained  to  the  Duke  that  Sir  Thomas 
Picton  had  declared  that  he  would  hang  him  if 
the  rations  for  that  general's  division  were  not 
forthcoming  at  a  certain  hour,  the  Duke  replied, 
"Ah!  did  he  go  so  far  as  that  ?  Did  he  say  he'd 
hang  you?"  "Yes,  my  lord."  "Well,  if  General 
Picton  said  so,  I  have  no  doubt  he  will  keep  his 
word;  you'd  better  get  up  the  rations  in  time." 

WISDOM. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  all  wisdom  is  a  system  of 
balances,  or,  better  still,  a  golden  mean  between  two 
extremes.  Of  course  there  is  always  a  point  where 
decision  passes  into  rashness,  as  there  are  always 
some  subjects  which  require  the  utmost  deliberation 
before  any  safe  and  definite  conclusion  can  be  reached 
concerning  them.  One  of  these  subjects,  as  has 
already  been  indicated  in  a  previous  chapter,  is  the 
choice  of  a  vocation  in  life.  But  on  the  other  hand, 
there  are  numerous  exigencies  in  a  man's  life  when 
there  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost,  when  a  decision 
must  be  rendered  instantly,  and  then,  without  this 
faculty  under  consideration,  a  man's  fortune  and  wel- 
fare are  liable  to  be  greatly  endangered.  To  never 
know  what  to  do,  or  to  debate  like  Coleridge  which 
side  of  the  road  to  take  during  a  whole  journey,  is  to 
miserably  fail  when  important  emergencies  arrive. 


WISDOM-  243 

There  are  two  supreme  moments,  says  Browning,  in 
a  diver's  life ; 

"One  when,  a  beggar,  he  prepares  to  plunge; 
One  when,  a  prince,  he  rises  with  his  pearl," 

and  the  same  is  true  in  every  working  career. 

A  lawyer  must  needs  have  his  wits  about  him,  as 
there  are  only  about  so  many  possibilities  in  every 
case,  and  he  who  knows  these  best  will  generally  win. 
When  on  trial,  too,  all  unexpected  developments  must 
be  attended  to  at  the  moment.  The  same  thing  is 
true  of  a  physician.  As  the  patient  grows  nervous 
and  frightened,  the  doctor  must  grow  cool  and  col- 
lected. Dr.  John  Brown,  speaking  of  this  quality  in 
a  physician,  well  observes:  "  It  is  a  curious  condition 
of  mind  that  this  requires.  It  is  like  sleeping  with 
your  pistol  under  your  pillow,  and  the  pistol  on  full 
cock  ;  a  moment  lost,  and  all  may  be  lost.  There  is 
the  very  nick  of  time.  Men,  when  they  have  done 
some  signal  feat  of  presence  of  mind,  if  asked  how 
they  did  it,  do  not  very  well  know, — they  just  did  it. 
It  was  in  fact  done,  and  then  thought  of  ;  not  thought 
of  and  then  done,  in  which  case  it  would  most  likely 
never  have  been  done  at  all.  To  act  thus,  requires 
one  of  the  highest  powers  of  mind."  There  are  some 
men  that  remind  one  of  Voltaire's  sarcasm  upon  the 
French  author,  La  Harpe,  whom  he  called  an  "  oven 
that  was  always  heating  up,  but  which  never  cooked 
anything."  These  men  never  get  ahead  an  inch, 
because  they  are  always  hugging  some  cowardly 
maxim  or  other,  such  as,  "  A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth 
two  in  the  bush,"  etc. 


244 


WISDOM. 


Now,  there  is  always  more  or  less  of  truth  in  prov- 
erbs, but  proverbs  should  always  go  in  pairs,  as  they 
contain  only  half-truths,  and  can  always  be  matched 
with  reverse  or  opposite  "  saws,  "just  as  true  as  them- 
selves. The  reader  will  remember  those  two  about 
"  a  rolling  stone,"  and  "  the  sitting  hen,"  which  just 
balance  each  other.  Also  this:  "  It  is  an  ill  wind," 
etc.,  which,  turned  around,  is  equally  true,  for  that 
indeed  must  be  a  good  wind  which  blows  no  one  any 
hurt — especially  if  the  wind  happens  to  be  a  modern 
cyclone.  John  Foster  is  about  the  highest  authority 
on  this  subject,  and  he  says:  "  A  man  without  deci- 
sion can  never  be  said  to  belong  to  himself ;  since,  if 
he  dared  to  assert  that  he  did,  the  puny  force  of  some 
cause,  about  as  powerful  as  a  spider,  may  make  a  seiz- 
ure of  the  unhappy  boaster  the  very  next  moment, 
and  contemptuously  exhibit  the  futility  of  the  deter- 
minations by  which  he  was  to  have  proved  the  inde- 
pendence of  his  understanding  and  will.  He  belongs 
to  whatever  can  make  capture  of  him  ;  and  one  thing 
after  another  vindicates  its  right  to  him,  by  arresting 
him  while  he  is  trying  to  go  on  ;  as  twigs  and  chips, 
floating  near  the  edge  of  a  river,  are  intercepted  by 
every  weed  and  whirled  in  every  little  eddy.  Having 
concluded  on  a  design,  he  may  pledge  himself  to 
accomplish  it — if  the  hundred  diversities  of  feeling 
which  may  come  within  the  week  will  let  him.  His 
character  precluding  all  foresight  of  his  conduct,  he 
may  sit  and  wonder  what  form  and  direction  his  views 
and  actions  are  destined  to  take  to-morrow ;  as  a 
farmer  has  often  to  acknowledge  that  next  day's  pro- 
ceedings are  at  the  disposal  of  its  winds  and  clouds." 


INDECISION.  245 

Those  who  take  pains  to  learn  wisdom  and  to  be 
harmless  in  its  exercise,  may  be  accounted  wise. 

INDECISION. 

A  melancholy  example  of  this  is  furnished  by  the 
life  of  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  whom  Sir  Henry  Lyt- 
ton  Bulwer,  in  his  "  Historical  Characters,"  terms 
"The  Man  of  Promise."  The  career  of  Sir  James 
was  a  perpetual  struggle  between  that  which  he  de- 
sired to  be,  and  that  for  which  his  talents  fitted  him. 
At  the  University  of  Aberdeen  he  was  alike  remark- 
able for  his  zeal  in  politics  and  his  love  for  meta- 
physics. At  Edinburgh,  also,  where  he  went  to  study 
medicine,  he  spent  his  mornings  in  poetical  lucubra- 
tions, his  evenings  in  making  speeches  at  a  "spout- 
ing" club,  giving  little  attention  to  the  study  of 
medicine,  until  he  was  absolutely  compelled  to  do  so. 
He  then  applied  himself  with  a  start  to  that  which 
he  was  obliged  to  know  ;  but  his  diligence  was  not 
of  that  resolute  and  steady  kind  which  insures 
success  as  the  consequence  of  a  certain  period  of  ap- 
plication ;  and,  after  rushing  into  the  novelties  of 
"  The  Brunonian  System,"  which  promised  a  knowl- 
edge of  medicine  with  little  labor,  and  then  rushing 
back  again,  he  tried  to  establish  himself  as  a  medica1 
practitioner  at  Salisbury  and  Weymouth  in  England, 
but  getting  no  patients,  he  retired,  disgusted  and 
wearied,  to  Brussels. 

He  next  dabbled  in  politics ;  wrote  the  famous 
pamphlet,  "  Vindiciae  Gallicae,"  in  reply  to  Burke  ; 
delivered  soon  after  at  Lincoln's  Inn  a  course  of 
learned  and  eloquent  lectures  on  public  law,  which 
were  received  with  great  enthusiasm  *  defended  M. 


246 


INDECISION. 


Peltier  in  a  speech  at  the  bar,  which  was  read  with 
admiration,  not  only  in  England,  but  on  the  Con- 
tinent, and,  though  he  lost  his  cause,  led  him  to  be 
considered  no  less  promising  as  a  pleader  ;  became 
Recorder  of  Bombay ;  returned  to  England,  and 
feeling  that  "  it  was  time  to  be  something  decided," 
resolved  "to  exert  himself  to  the  utmost,"  if  he 
could  get  a  seat  in  Parliament ;  entered  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  made  several  remarkable  speeches  ; 
accepted  a  professorship  at  the  same  time  in  Hailey- 
bury  College,  projected  a  great  historical  work  which 
he  never  completed,  and  finally,  when  near  the  end  of 
his  life,  stung  by  the  thought  that  he  had  accom- 
plished nothing  worthy  of  himself,  crowded  into 
three  years,  what  he  ought  to  have  done  long  before 
in  ten,  and  left  nothing  behind  him  but  broken 
columns  and  unfulfilled  designs. 

One  of  the  great  defects  in  the  character  of 
Charles  V.,  Emperor  of  Germany,  was  his  slowness 
of  decision  in  the  cabinet  and  in  the  field.  Had  he 
been  prompt  and  decisive,  he  might  have  crushed 
the  Reformation  in  the  bud.  Coligni,  one  of  the 
champions  of  Protestantism  in  France,  who  perished 
in  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  had  a  similar 
defect.  A  braver  man  never  lived,  but  he  lacked 
both  decision  and  energy.  On  the  contrary  it  is  told 
of  Pellissier,  the  hero  of  the  Crimea,  that,  getting 
angry  one  morning,  with  a  sub-officer  of  a  cavalry 
regiment,  he  cut  him  across  the  face  with  a  whip. 
The  man  drew  a  pistol,  and  attempted  to  explode  it 
in  the  face  of  his  chief;  but  it  missed  fire.  Uttering 
a  fearful  oath,  but  otherwise  calm,  "  Fellow !"  said 
the  grim  chief  of  the  Zouaves,  "  I  order  you  a  three 


INDECISION.  247 

days'  arrest  for  not  having  your  arms  in  better  order." 
Some  forty  years  ago  murder  was  so  rife  in  Havana 
that  it  seemed  literally  to  be  cultivated  as  one  of  the 
fine  arts,  to  use  De  Quincey's  phrase  ;  and  the  city, 
if  less  libidinous,  was  probably  more  blood-stained 
than  Sodom  or  Gomorrah.  Yet,  in  a  short  time,  by 
the  vigor  and  decision  of  one  man,  this  hideous  state 
of  things  was  entirely  changed  ;  and  through  Havana 
then,  as  through  England  under  Alfred,  or  through 
Geneva  now,  the  most  gently-nurtured  woman  could 
walk  at  midnight  with  a  female  attendant,  unscared 
and  unharmed.  One  night  a  murder  was  committed, 
and  Tacon,  the  Chief  of  Police,  heard  in  the  morn- 
ing that  the  perpetrator  was  still  at  large.  He  sum- 
moned the  prefect  of  the  department  in  which  the 
crime  was  committed.  "  How  is  this,  sir  ?  a  man 
murdered  at  midnight,  and  the  murderer  not  yet 
arrested  ? "  "  May  it  please  your  Excellency,  it  is 
impossible.  We  do  not  even  know  who  it  is." 
Tacon  saw  the  officer  was  lying,  "  Hark  you,  sir. 
Bring  me  this  murderer  before  night,  or  I'll  garrote 
you  to-morrow  morning."  The  officer  knew  his  man, 
and  the  assassin  was  forthcoming. 

Avoid,  then,  as  you  would  the  plague,  being  the 
kind  of  man  described  many  years  ago  in  the 
*  London  Spectator  :" 

"  A  man  so  various  that  he  seemed  to  be 
Not  one,  but  all  mankind's  epitome; 
Stiff  in  opinion,  always  in  the  wrong, 
Everything  by  starts,  and  nothing  long, 
But  in  the  course  of  one  revolving  moon, 
Was  chemist,  fiddler,  statesman  and  buffoon," 


248  PATIENCE. 

Hugh  Miller  has  told  how,  by  an  act  of  youthful 
decision,  he  saved  himself  from  one  of  the  strong 
temptations  so  peculiar  to  a  life  of  toil.  When  em- 
ployed as  a  mason,  it  was  usual  for  his  fellow-work- 
men to  have  an  occasional  treat  of  drink,  and  one 
day  two  glasses  of  whiskey  fell  to  his  share,  which 
he  swallowed.  When  he  reached  home,  he  found, 
on  opening  his  favorite  book, — "  Bacon's  Essays,"- 
that  the  letters  danced  before  his  eyes,  and  that  he 
could  no  longer  master  the  sense.  "  The  condition," 
he  says,  "  into  which  I  had  brought  myself  was,  I 
felt,  one  of  degradation.  I  had  sunk,  by  my  own 
act,  for  the  time,  to  a  lower  level  of  intelligence  than 
that  on  which  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  placed  ;  and 
though  the  state  could  have  been  no  very  favorable 
one  for  forming  a  resolution,  I  in  that  hour  deter- 
mined that  I  should  never  again  sacrifice  my  capacity 
of  intellectual  enjoyment  to  a  drinking  usage  ;  and 
with  God's  help,  I  was  enabled  to  hold  my  determina- 
tion." It  is  such  decisions  as  this  that  often  form 
the  turning-point  in  a  man's  life,  and  furnish  the 
foundation  of  his  future  character. 

PATIENCE. 

Nine  out  of  every  ten  who  fail  in  life  get  discour- 
aged and  give  up  before  the  battle  is  fairly  won. 
They  lose  hope  and  heart,  They  lack  courage  and 
faith.  They  become  impatient  at  the  slow  results  of 
their  toil.  They  cannot  learn  to  "  labor  and  to  wait." 
But  no  one  can  succeed  in  life  by  pursuing  such  a 
course.  It  is  only  by  a  resolute  holding  on  and  a 
patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  that  the  end  of  a 


PATIENCE.  249 

journey  is  reached.  Nearly  all  really  great  men  be- 
gan life  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and  worked  their 
way  up  by  slow  degrees,  and  through  many  trials  and 
difficulties.  And  so,  my  reader,  you  must  make  up 
your  mind  to  do  the  same,  or  stay  where  you  are  and 
abandon  all  hopes  of  preferment. 

The  grandest  results  cannot  be  achieved  in  a  day ; 
the  fruits  that  are  best  worth  plucking  usually  ripen 
the  most  slowly. 

Laborers  for  the  public  good  especially  have  to 
work  long  and  patiently,  often  uncheered  by  the  pros- 
pect of  immediate  recompense  or  result.  The  seeds 
they  sow  sometimes  lie  hidden  under  the  winter's 
snow  a  long  while  before  the  spring  comes  and  brings 
them  to  the  surface.  Adam  Smith,  the  founder  of 
the  science  of  Political  Economy,  wrote  a  work  called 
"  The  Wealth  of  Nations,"  and  it  took  seventy 
years  before  it  produced  any  substantial  fruits ;  but 
the  harvest  is  not  gathered  in  yet. 

One  of  the  most  cheerful  and  courageous,  because 
one  of  the  most  hopeful  of  workers,  was  Carey,  the 
missionary.  When  in  India,  it  was  no  uncommon 
thing  for  him  to  weary  out  three  pundits,  who 
officiated  as  his  clerks,  in  one  day,  he  himself  taking 
rest  only  in  change  of  employment.  Carey,  himself, 
the  son  of  a  shoemaker,  was  supported  in  his  labors 
by  Ward,  the  son  of  a  carpenter,  and  Marshman,  the 
son  of  a  weaver.  By  their  labors,  a  magnificent  col- 
lege was  erected  at  Serampore  ;  sixteen  flourishing 
stations  were  established ;  the  Bible  was  translated 
into  sixteen  languages,  and  the  seeds  were  sown  of  a 
beneficent  moral  revolution  in  British  India.  Carey 
was  never  ashamed  of  the  humbleness  of  his  origin. 


250  PATIENCE. 

On  one  occasion,  when  at  the  Governor-General's 
table,  he  overheard  an  officer  opposite  him  asking 
another,  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  whether  Carey  had 
not  once  been  a  shoemaker  :  "  No,  sir,"  exclaimed 
Carey  immediately,  "  only  a  cobbler."  An  eminently 
characteristic  anecdote  has  been  told  of  his  perse- 
verance as  a  boy.  When  climbing  a  tree,  one  day, 
his  foot  slipped,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground,  breaking 
his  leg  by  the  fall.  He  was  confined  to  his  bed  for 
weeks,  but  when  his  strength  had  grown  again,  and 
he  was  able  to  walk  without  support,  the  very  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  go  and  climb  that  tree.  Carey 
had  need  of  this  sort  of  dauntless  courage  for  the 
great  missionary  work  of  his  life,  and  nobly  and 
resolutely  did  he  do  it. 

Not  less  interesting  is  the  following  anecdote  of 
Audubon,  the  American  ornithologist,  related  by 
himself:  "  An  accident,"  he  says,  "  which  happened 
to  two  hundred  of  my  original  drawings,  nearly  put 
a  stop  to  my  researches  in  ornithology.  I  shall  re- 
late it,  merely  to  show  how  far  enthusiasm — for  by 
no  other  name  can  I  call  my  perseverance — may  en- 
able the  preserver  of  nature  to  surmount  the  most 
disheartening  difficulties.  I  left  the  village  of  Hen- 
derson, in  Kentucky,  situated  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ohio,  where  I  resided  for  several  years,  to  proceed 
to  Philadelphia  on  business.  I  looked  to  my  draw- 
ings before  my  departure,  placed  them  carefully  in  a 
wooden  box,  and  gave  them  in  charge  of  a  relative, 
with  injunctions  to  see  that  no  injury  should  happen 
to  them.  My  absence  was  of  several  months  ;  and 
when  I  returned,  after  having  enjoyed  the  pleasures 
of  home  for  a  few  days,  I  inquired  after  my  box, 


ILLUSTRATIONS.  251 

and  what  I  was  pleased  to  call  my  treasure.  The 
box  was  produced  and  opened  ;  but,  reader,  feel  for 
me, — a  pair  of  Norway  rats  had  taken  possession  of  the 
whole,  and  reared  a  young  family  among  the  gnawed 
bits  of  paper,  which,  but  a  month  previous,  repre- 
sented nearly  a  thousand  inhabitants  of  air  !  The 
burning  heat  which  instantly  rushed  through  my 
brain  was  too  great  to  be  endured  without  affecting 
my  whole  nervous  system.  I  slept  for  several  nights, 
and  the  days  passed  like  days  of  oblivion, — until  the 
animal  powers  being  recalled  into  action,  through 
the  strength  of  my  constitution,  I  took  up  my  gun, 
my  note-book,  and  my  pencils,  and  went  forth  to  the 
woods  as  gaily  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I  felt 
pleased  that  I  might  make  better  drawings  than  be- 
fore ;  and,  ere  a  period  not  exceeding  three  years 
had  elapsed,  my  portfolio  was  again  filled." 

ILL  USTRA  TIONS. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton  had  a  little  dog  Diamond,  who, 
one  evening  when  his  master  had  gone  to  his  supper, 
upset  a  lighted  taper  upon  the  table  where  lay  the 
laborious  calculations  of  years.  When  the  philosopher 
returned  and  beheld  the  destruction  of  his  manu- 
scripts, he  is  said  to  have  exclaimed  :  "  Ah  !  Diamond, 
you  little  know  the  mischief  you  have  wrought," 
and  then  sat  down  and  commenced  to  reproduce 
them.  A  like  mischance  befell  Thomas  Carlyle, 
when  he  had  finished  the  first  volume  of  his  French 
Revolution.  He  lent  the  manuscript  to  a  friend  for 
perusal,  and  it  having  been  left,  by  some  careless- 
ness, on  the  parlor  floor,  the  maid-of-all-work,  finding 


252  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

what  she  supposed  to  be  a  bundle  of  waste  paper, 
used  it  to  light  the  kitchen  and  parlor  fires.  The 
first  composition  of  the  book  had  been  a  labor  of 
love  ;  the  drudgery  of  re-writing  it,  with  no  help  but 
memory,  was  contemplated  by  the  author  with  a  de- 
gree of  anguish  which  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive. 
Yet,  without  wasting  time  in  plaints,  he  set  resolutely 
to  work,  and  at  last  triumphantly  reproduced  the 
book  in  the  form  in  which  it  now  appears.  A  similar 
anecdote  is  told  of  Robert  Ainsworth,  a  celebrated 
writer  and  antiquary  of  the  eighteenth  century.  He 
had  toiled  for  years  in  compiling  a  voluminous 
dictionary  of  the  Latin  language,  during  which  time 
he  gave  so  little  of  his  society  to  his  wife,  that,  be- 
fore he  had  quite  completed  the  work,  she  committed 
it  to  the  flames.  Instead  of  abandoning  himself  to 
despair,  he  began  at  once  to  re-write  the  book,  which, 
with  almost  incredible  labor,  he  finally  accomplished. 
When  Edward  Livingston  had  finished  his  great 
code  of  Louisianian  law,  he  had  the  anguish  of  be- 
holding the  labor  of  long  years  perish  instantly  in 
the  flames ;  yet  he  was  not  disheartened,  but 
patiently  re-commenced  and  re-performed  his  task. 


HABITS."  253 


"HABITS." 


"  Habit  at  first  is  but  a  silken  thread, 
Fine  as  the  light-winged  gossamers  that  sway 
In  the  warm  sunbeams  of  a  summer's  day; 
A  shallow  streamlet,  rippling  o'er  its  bed; 
A  tiny  sapling,  ere  its  roots  are  spread ; 
A  yet  unhardened  thorn  upon  the  spray; 
A  lion's  whelp  that  hath  not  scented  prey; 
A  little  smiling  child  obedient  led. 
Beware  !  that  thread  may  bind  thee  as  a  chain; 
That  streamlet  gather  to  a  fatal  sea; 
That  sapling  spread  into  a  gnarled  tree; 
That  thorn,  grown  hard,  may  wound  and  give  thee  pain  ; 
That  playful  whelp  his  murderous  fangs  reveal; 
That  child,  a  giant,  crush  thee  'neath  his  heel." 


;H  come  now  to  personal  habits  which 
are  essential  to  business  success.  Habits 
of  all  kinds  play  a  more  important  part 
in  human  life  than  most  people  realize. 
What  is  done  once  and  again,  soon  be- 
comes a  kind  of  second  nature  from 
which  it  is  almost  impossible  to  break 
away.  Lord  Brougham  said  in  reference  to  the 
training  of  youth,  "  I  trust  everything  under  God 
to  habit,  on  which,  in  all  ages,  the  lawgiver,  as  well 
as  the  schoolmaster,  has  mainly  placed  his  re- 
liance ;  habit,  which  makes  everything  easy,  and 

• 

, 


254  "  HABITS. 

casts  the  difficulties  upon  the  deviation  from  a 
wonted  course."  Character  is  always  weakest 
where  it  has  once  given  way,  just  as  a  water-dyke  is 
most  treacherous  where  the  current  has  once  broken 
through.  A  principle  restored  can  never  become 
as  strong  as  one  that  has  never  been  moved.  In 
fact,  principles  themselves  are  but  the  names  which 
we  give  to  habits,  for  the  principles  are  but  words, 
while  the  habits  are  the  things  in  reality.  The  small 
acts  of  life,  taken  singly,  are  like  the  snowflakes 
which  fall  one  by  one,  but  when  accumulated,  they 
constitute  the  resistless  avalanche.  Montaigne,  in 
one  of  his  essays,  says  of  custom  or  habit,  "  She  is 
a  violent  and  treacherous  schoolmistress.  She,  by 
little  and  little,  slyly  and  unperceived,  slips  in  the 
foot  of  her  authority,  but  having  by  this  gentle  and 
humble  beginning,  with  the  aid  of  time,  fixed  and 
established  it,  she  then  unmasks  a  furious  and  tyrannic 
countenance,  against  which  we  have  no  more  the 
courage  nor  the  power  so  much  as  to  lift  up  our  eyes." 
The  habit  at  first  may  seem  no  stronger  than  a 
spider's  web,  but  when  once  rooted  and  formed  it 
becomes  a  chain  of  iron.  "  Remember,"  said  Lord 
Collingwood  to  a  young  man,  "  before  you  are  five- 
and-twenty,  you  must  establish  a  character  that  will 
serve  or  ruin  you  for  life."  Even  happiness  may  be- 
come a  matter  of  habit,  that  is,  a  man  can  accustom 
himself  to  look  upon  the  bright  or  upon  the  dark 
side  of  things.  Dr.  Johnson  said  that  the  habit  of 
looking  upon  the  best  side  of  things  was  worth  to  a 
man,  more  than  a  thousand  pounds  a  year.  Old 
men,  accustomed  to  certain  ways  in  life,  find  it  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  to  change  those  ways.  Thus  Lord 


METHOD.  255 

Kames  tells  of  a  man  who,  having  relinquished  the 
sea  for  a  country  life,  reared  in  the  corner  of  his 
garden  an  artificial  mound  with  a  level  summit,  re- 
sembling most  accurately  a  quarter-deck,  not  only  in 
shape,  but  in  size,  where  he  generally  walked.  When 
Franklin  was  superintending  the  erection  of  some  forts 
on  the  frontier,  as  a  defense  against  the  Indians,  he 
slept  at  night  in  a  blanket  on  the  hard  floor,  and,  on 
his  first  return  to  civilized  life,  could  hardly  sleep  in  a 
bed.  Captain  Ross  and  his  crew,  having  been  accus- 
tomed during  their  polar  wanderings  to  lie  on  the 
frozen  snow,  or  on  the  bare  rock,  afterward  found 
the  accommodations  of  a  whaler  too  luxurious  for 
them,  and  he  was  obliged  to  exchange  his  hammock 
for  a  chair. 

METHOD. 

Among  good  business  habits,  method  holds  an  im- 
portant place.  In  the  past  ages,  before  the  invention 
of  the  steam-engine  and  the  electric  telegraph,  when 
commerce  had  a  narrow  range,  but  few  faculties  of 
the  mind  were  called  into  play  by  business  ;  but  to- 
day, when  submarine  cables  are  making  of  the  whole 
world  a  whispering  gallery,  and  the  fluctuations  of 
one  market  are  felt  in  every  other,  when  so  varied  a 
knowledge  and  so  constant  a  watchfulness  are  neces- 
sary to  success,  method  becomes  doubly  important. 
In  fact,  there  is  hardly  any  kind  of  business  which 
does  not  demand  system.  Commissioners  of  in- 
solvency say  that  the  books  of  nine  bankrupts  out  of 
ten  are  always  found  to  be  in  a  perfect  muddle — 
kept  without  plan  or  method.  It  is  easy  enough  to 


256  METHOD. 

• 

sneer  at  "  red  tape  "  and  formality,  but  "  an  intelli- 
gent method,  which  surveys  the  whole  work  before  it, 
and  assigns  the  several  parts  to  distinct  times  and 
agents,  which  adapts  itself  to  exigencies,  and  keeps 
ever  in  its  eye  the  object  to  be  attained,  is  one  of  the 
most  powerful  instruments  of  human  labor.  The 
professional  or  business  man  who  despises  it  will 
never  do  anything  well.  It  matters  not  how  clever 
or  brilliant  he  is,  or  how  fertile  in  expedients,  if  he 
works  without  system,  catching  up  whatever  is  nearest 
at  hand,  or  trying  to  do  half  a  dozen  things  at  once, 
he  will  sooner  or  later  come  to  grief." 

The  importance  of  system  in  the  discharge  of  daily 
duties  was  strikingly  illustrated  in  the  experience  of 
Dr.  Kane  when  he  was  locked  up  among  the  icebergs 
of  the  Arctic  Circle,  with  the  prospect  of  months  of 
dreary  imprisonment.  With  his  men  enfeebled  by 
disease  and  privations,  and  when  all  but  eight  of  his 
company  had  left  him  to  search  for  a  way  of  escape, 
he  sustained  the  drooping  spirits  of  the  handful  who 
clung  to  him,  and  kept  up  their  energies,  by  a  sys- 
tematic performance  of  duties  and  moral  discipline. 
"  It  is,"  he  observes,  "  the  experience  of  every  man 
who  has  either  combated  difficulties  himself  or  at- 
tempted to  guide  others  through  them,  that  the  con- 
trolling law  shall  be  systematic  action.  Nothing  de- 
presses and  demoralizes  so  much  as  a  surrender  of 
the  approved  and  habitual  forms  of  life.  I  resolved 
that  everything  should  go  on  as  it  had  done.  The 
arrangement  of  hours,  the  distribution  and  details  of 
duty,  the  religious  exercises,  the  ceremonials  of  the 
table,  the  fires,  the  lights,  the  watch,  the  labors  of 
the  observatory,  and  the  notation  of  the  tides  and 


METHOD.  257 

the   sky, — nothing   should   be    intermitted  that  had 
contributed  to  make  up  the  day." 

William  Cecil  afterward,  Lord  Burleigh,  said  of 
method,  it  "  is  like  packing  things  in  a  box ;  a  good 
packer  will  get  in  half  as  much  again  as  a  bad  one." 
Cecil's  dispatch  of  business  was  extraordinary,  his 
maxim  being,  "  The  shortest  way  to  do  many  things 
is  to  do  only  one  thing  at  once  ; "  and  he  never  left 
a  thing  undone  when  it  could  be  attended  to  at  the 
time.  He  would  rather  encroach  on  his  hours  for 
meals  than  omit  any  part  of  his  work.  De  Witt's 
maxim  also  was  ;  "  One  thing  at  a  time.  If  I  have 
dispatches  to  make,  I  think  of  nothing  else  until 
they  are  finished ;  if  other  affairs  demand  my  atten- 
tion, I  give  myself  wholly  to  them  until  done.  Be- 
sides this,  all  peculiarly  important  affairs  should  be 
attended  to  in  person.  An  indolent  country  gentle- 
man in  England  had  a  freehold  estate  producing 
about  five  hundred  a  year.  Becoming  involved  in 
debt,  he  sold  half  of  the  estate,  and  let  the  remainder 
to  an  industrious  farmer  for  twenty  years.  About 
the  end  of  the  term  the  farmer  called  to  pay  his  rent, 
and  asked  the  owner  whether  he  would  sell  the  farm. 
"  Will  you  buy  it  ?"  asked  the  owner,  surprised. 
"  Yes,  if  we  can  agree  about  the  price."  "  That  is 
exceedingly  strange,"  observed  the  gentleman  ;  "  pray, 
tell  me  how  it  happens  that  while  I  could  not  live 
upon  twice  as  much  land,  for  which  I  paid  no  rent, 
you  are  regularly  paying  me  two  hundred  a  year  for 
your  farm,  and  are  able,  in  a  few  years,  to  purchase 
it."  "The  reason  is  plain,"  was  the  reply;  "you  sat 
still  and  said  Go;  I  got  up  and  said  Come ;  you  laid 
in  bed  and  enjoyed  your  estate,  I  rose  in  the 

17 


358  PUNCTUALITY. 

morning  and  minded  my  business."  •  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  writing  to  a  youth  who  had  obtained  a  situa- 
tion and  asked  him  for  his  advice,  gave  him  in  reply 
this  sound  counsel  :  "  Beware  of  stumbling  over  a 
propensity  which  easily  besets  you  from  not  having 
your  time  fully  employed, — I  mean  what  the  women 
call  dawdling.  Do  instantly  whatever  is  to  be  done, 
and  take  the  hours  of  recreation  after  business,  never 
before  it." 

PUNCTUALITT. 

Be  punctual  ;  there  can  be  few  worse  traits  in  a 
business  man  than  to  be  continually  behind  time  in 
his  engagements.  If  a  man's  word^or  appointments 
cannot  be  depended  upon,  he  is  sure  to  be  mistrusted 
and  then  neglected  altogether.  Lost  wealth  may  be 
replaced  by  industry,  lost  knowledge  by  study,  lost 
health  by  temperance,  but  lost  time  is  gone  forever. 
Lord  Nelson  once  said,  "  I  owe  all  my  success  in  life 
to  having  been  always  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before 
my  time."  He  who  holds  to  his  appointment  and 
does  not  keep  you  waiting  for  him,  shows  that  he 
has  regard  for  your  time  as  well  as  for  his  own. 
Thus  punctuality  is  one  of  the  modes  by  which  we 
testify  our  personal  respect  for  those  whom  we  are 
called  upon  to  meet  in  the  business  of  life.  It  is  also 
conscientiousness  in  a  measure  ;  for  an  appointment 
is  a  contract,  express  or  implied,  and  he  who  does 
not  keep  it,  breaks  faith  as  well  as  dishonestly  uses 
other  people's  time,  and  thus  inevitably  loses  char- 
acter. We  naturally  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
person  who  is  careless  about  time,  will  be  careless 


PUNCTUALITY.  259 

about  business,  and  that  he  is  not  the  one  to  be 
trusted  with  the  transaction  of  matters  of  impor- 
tance. When  Washington's  secretary  excused  him- 
self for  the  lateness  of  his  attendance,  and  laid  the 
blame  upon  his  watch,  his  master  quietly  said,  "  Then 
you  must  get  another  watch,  or  I  another  secretary." 

It  is  said  of  Lord  Brougham,  that  when  he  was  in 
the  full  career  of  his  profession,  presiding  in  the 
House  of  Lords  and  the  Court  of  Chancery,  he 
found  time  to  be  at  the  head  of  some  eight  or  ten 
public  associations, — one  of  which  was  the  Society 
for  the  Diffusion  of  Useful  Knowledge, — and  that 
he  was  most  punctual  in  his  attendances,  always  con- 
triving to  be  in  the  chair  when  the  hour  of  meeting 
had  arrived.  To  steal  another's  time  by  delay,  is 
nearly  or  quite  as  bad  as  to  steal  his  property,  be- 
cause in  consuming  another's  time  by  careless  neglect 
you  take  away  from  him  that  which  can  be  converted 
into  direct  and  immediate  capital.  Indeed,  all  money 
is  earned  by  time  and  labor.  In  one  of  Dickens' 
stories  there  is  a  character  whom  he  names  "  Captain 
Cuttle."  The  Captain  was  a  very  eccentric  man, 
and  he  had  a  watch  as  eccentric  as  himself.  He  used 
to  say  that  "  if  he  could  remember  to  set  it  ahead 
half  an  hour  in  the  forenoon,  and  back  quarter  of  an 
hour  in  the  afternoon,  it  would  keep  time  with  any- 
body's watch."  Too  many  business  men  have 
watches  of  a  similar  kind,  it  is  to  be  feared,  and  the 
result  is,  they  are  always  late  at  the  counting-room, 
late  at  the  railway  station,  late  in  getting  letters  into 
the  mail.  Business  is  thus  thrown  into  confusion, 
and  every  one  concerned  is  put  out  of  temper. 

How  many  persons  have  been  ruined  by  neglecting 


260  PUNCTUALITY. 

for  a  day,  or  even  an  hour,  to  renew  an  insurance 
policy  !  How  many  merchants  are  made  bankrupts 
by  delays  of  their  customers  in  paying  their  notes  or 
accounts  !  Often  the  failure  of  one  man  to  meet  his 
obligations  promptly,  causes  the  ruin  of  a  score  of 
other  men,  just  as  in  a  line  of  bricks  the  toppling 
down  of  the  master  brick  necessitates  the  fall  of  all 
the  rest. 

John  Quincy  Adams,  who  filled  a  greater  number 
of  important  offices,  political  and  civil,  than  has  any 
other  American,  was  pre-eminently  punctual.  He 
was  an  economist  of  moments,  and  was  never  known 
to  be  behind  time.  His  reputation  in  this  respect 
was  such  that  when  in  old  age  he  was  a  member  of 
the  House  of  Representatives  at  Washington,  and  a 
gentleman  observed  that  it  was  time  to  call  the 
House  to  order,  another  replied,  "  No,  Mr.  Adams 
is  not  in  his  seat."  The  clock,  it  was  found,  was 
actually  three  minutes  too  fast ;  and  before  three 
minutes  had  elapsed,  Mr.  Adams  was  at  his  post. 

"  When  a  regiment  is  under  march,"  writes  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  "  the  rear  is  often  thrown  into  confu- 
sion because  the  front  does  not  move  steadily.  And 
it  is  the  same  with  business.  If  that  which  is  first  in 
hand  be  not  regularly  dispatched,  other  things  ac- 
cumulate behind  until  affairs  begin  to  press  all  at 
once,  and  no  human  brain  can  stand  the  confusion." 
Napoleon  studied  his  watch  as  closely  as  he  studied 
the  maps  of  the  battlefield.  His  victories  were  not 
won  by  consummate  strategy  merely,  but  by  impress- 
ing his  subordinates  with  the  necessity  of  punctuality 
to  the  minute.  Maneuvering  over  large  spaces  of 
country,  so  that  the  enemy  was  puzzled  to  decide 


PUNCTUALITY.  261 

where  the  blow  would  fall,  he  would  suddenly  con- 
centrate his  forces  and  fall  with  resistless  might  on 
some  weak  point  in  the  extended  lines  of  the  foe, — a 
plan  the  successful  execution  of  which  demanded 
that  every  division  of  his  army  should  be  at  the  place 
named  at  the  very  hour. 

It  is  related  that  on  one  occasion,  his  marshals, 
who  had  been  invited  to  dine  with  him,  were  ten  min- 
utes late.  Rising  to  meet  them,  the  Emperor,  who 
began  his  dinner  as  the  clock  struck,  and  had  finished, 
said:  "Gentlemen,  it  is  now  past  dinner,  and  we  will 
immediately  proceed  to  business ;"  whereupon  the 
marshals  were  obliged  to  spend  the  afternoon  in  plan- 
ning a  campaign  on  an  empty  stomach.  Later  in 
life,  Napoleon  was  less  prompt;  and  it  was  his  loss  of 
precious  hours  on  the  morning  of  Ligny,  and  his  in- 
explicable dawdling  on  the  day  after  the  defeat  of 
Blucher,  which  contributed  more  than  any  other  cause 
to  the  fatal  overthrow  at  Waterloo.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  was  the  promptness  and  punctuality  of  "Mar- 
shal Forwards"  (as  Blucher  was  nicknamed  by  his 
troops)  which  enabled  Wellington  to  convert  what 
otherwise  would  have  probably  been  a  drawn  battle 
into  a  brilliant  victory.  The  Napoleon  of  Auster- 
litz  and  Jena  would  have  made  history  tell  a  different 
story.  It  is  said  that  Colonel  Rahl,  the  Hessian 
commander  who  in  the  American  Revolution  was 
routed  and  taken  prisoner  at  Trenton,  lost  the  battle 
through  procrastination.  Engrossed  in  a  game  of 
cards,  he  postponed  the  reading  of  a  letter  which 
reached  him,  informing  him  that  Washington  was 
about  to  cross  the  Delaware,  and  thus  lost  the  oppor- 
tunity of  thwarting  the  design  of  the  American  gen- 


262  ECONOMY. 


eral,  and  perhaps  giving  a  different  direction  to  the 
War  of  Independence. 

ECONOMT. 

There  is  no  man  in  the  universe,  however  shrewd, 
or  capable  he  may  be,  who  can  be  a  successful  busi- 
ness man  unless  he  contrives  to  live  within  his  means. 
Extravagance  in  ideas,  in  dress,  and  in  habits  of  life, 
is  one  of  the  most  destructive  vices  connected  with 
our  latter-day  civilization.  Nearly  all  classes  are  in- 
fected with  this  mania,  but  the  average  well-to-do 
class  especially  seem  possessed  to  live  beyond  their 
income  and  put  on  a  kind  of  false  show  or  style 
which  they  are  not  able  to  carry  out.  And  not  only 
this,  but  there  seems  to  be  an  insane  ambition  to 
bring  up  children  "genteelly,"  and  thus  cripple  all  na- 
tive energy  and  resolution  of  character,  at  the  very 
outset  of  life.  As  another  has  said,  "They  acquire  a 
taste  for  dress,  style,  luxuries,  and  amusements,  which 
can  never  form  any  solid  foundation  for  manly  or 
gentlemanly  character;  and  the  result  is,  that  we  have 
a  vast  number  of  gingerbread  young  men  and  women 
thrown  upon  the  world,  who  remind  one  of  the  aban- 
doned hulls  sometimes  picked  up  at  sea,  with  only  a 
monkey  on  board."  People  seem  determined  to  keep 
up  appearances  and  try  to  be  "big,"  whether  they  can 
afford  it  or  not.  Even  honesty  and  honor  are  noth- 
ing in  comparison  with  a  vulgar  outside  show  and  a 
certain  self-constituted  importance  in  style  of  living. 

Multitudes  have  not  the  courage  to  go  patiently  on- 
ward in  the  path  of  life  in  which  their  birth  and  cir- 
cumstances have  placed  them,  but  they  must  needs 


ECONOMY.  263 

try  to  get  out  of  this,  and  into  some  fashionable  state 
or  other  where  they  can  swell  and  strut  like  peacocks, 
in  a  plumage  that  is  not  paid  for.  There  is  a  con- 
stant struggle  and  pressure  for  front  seats  in  the  so- 
cial amphitheatre;  in  the  midst  of  which  all  noble  self- 
denying  resolve  is  trodden  down,  and  many  fine  na- 
tures are  inevitably  crushed  to  death.  What  waste, 
what  misery,  what  bankruptcy,  come  from  all  this 
ambition  to  dazzle  others  with  the  glare  of  apparent 
worldly  success,  we  need  not  describe.  The  mischiev- 
ous results  show  themselves  in  a  thousand  ways, — -in 
the  rank  frauds  committed  by  men  who  dare  to  be 
dishonest,  but  do  not  dare  to  seem  poor ;  and  in  the 
desperate  dashes  at  fortune,  in  which  the  pity  is  not 
so  much  for  those  who  fail,  as  for  the  hundreds  of  in- 
nocent families  who  are  so  often  involved  in  their  ruin. 
Economizing  one's  means  with  the  mere  object  of 
hoarding,  is  a  very  mean  thing,  but  economizing  for 
the  purpose  of  being  independent  is  one  of  the  sound- 
est indications  of  manly  character ;  and  when  practiced 
with  the  object  of  providing  for  those  who  are  de- 
pendent upon  us,  it  assumes  quite  a  noble  aspect. 
Francis  Horner's  father  gave  him  this  good  advice  on 
first  entering  life  :  "Whilst  I  wish  you  to  be  com- 
fortable  in  every  respect,  I  cannot  too  strongly  incul- 
cate economy.  It  is  a  necessary  virtue  to  all;  and 
however  the  shallow  part  of  mankind  may  despise  it, 
it  certainly  leads  to  independence,  which  is  a  grand 
object  to  every  man  of  a  high  spirit.  Those  who  are 
careless  about  personal  expenditure,  and  consider 
merely  their  own  gratification,  without  regard  for  the 
comfort  of  others,  generally  find  out  the  real  uses  of 
money  when  it  is  too  late.  Though  by  nature  gener- 


264  BEING    IN    DEBT. 

ous,  these  thriftless  persons  are  often  driven  in  the 
end  to  do  very  shabby  things.  They  dawdle  with 
their  money  as  with  their  time ;  draw  bills  upon  the 
future ;  anticipate  their  earnings  ;  and  are  thus  under 
the  necessity  of  dragging  after  them  a  load  of  debts 
and  obligations  which  seriously  affect  their  action  as 
free  and  independent  men.  The  loose  cash  which 
many  persons  throw  away  uselessly,  and  worse,  would 
often  form  a  basis  of  fortune  and  independence  for 
life.  These  wasters  are  their  own  worst  enemies, 
though  generally  found  amongst  the  ranks  of  those 
who  rail  at  the  injustice  of  the  world." 

One  of  the  best  of  those  who  are  called  by  the  world 
"good  fellows,"  was  the  poet  Burns.  He  earned 
money  easily,  and  spent  it  as  freely.  With  anything 
like  a  decent  economy  he  might  have  saved  enough 
to  have  made  himself  and  family  comfortable  through 
life.  But  he  was  an  easy  and  a  fast  liver,  and  on  his 
deathbed  he  wrote  to  a  friend,  "Alas  !  Clarke,  I  be- 
gin to  feel  the  worst.  Burns'  poor  widow,  and  a  half 
dozen  of  his  dear  little  ones  helpless  orphans ; — there 
I  am  weak  as  a  woman's  tear.  Enough  of  this  ; — 'tis 
half  my  disease." 

BEING  IN  DEBT. 

"To  be  in  debt,"  says  Mr.  Smiles,  "lowers  a  man 
in  self-respect,  places  him  at  the  mercy  of  his  trades- 
man and  his  servant,  and  renders  him  a  slave  in  many 
respects,  for  he  can  no  longer  call  himself  his  own 
master,  nor  boldly  look  the  world  in  the  face.  It  is 
also  difficult  for  a  man  who  is  in  debt  to  be  truthful ; 
hence  it  is  said  that  lying  rides  on  debt's  back.  The 


BEING    IN    DEBT.  265 

debtor  has  to  frame  excuses  to  his  creditor  for  post- 
poning payment  of  the  money  he  owes  him  ;  and 
probably  also,  to  contrive  falsehoods.  It  is  easy  enough 
for  a  man  who  will  exercise  a  healthy  resolution,  to 
avoid  incurring  the  first  obligation ;  but  the  facility 
with  which  that  has  been  incurred  often  becomes  a 
temptation  to  a  second  ;  and  very  soon  the  unfortu- 
nate borrower  becomes  so  entangled  that  no  late  exer- 
tion of  industry  can  set  him  free.  The  first  step  in 
debt  is  like  the  first  step  in  falsehood ;  almost  involv- 
ing the  necessity  of  proceeding  in  the  same  course, 
debt  following  debt,  as  lie  follows  lie." 

Haydon,  the  painter,  dated  his  decline  from  the 
day  on  which  he  first  borrowed  money.  He  realized 
the  truth  of  the  proverb,  "Who  goes  a-borrowing, 
goes  a-sorrowing."  The  significant  entry  in  his  diary 
is  :  "Here  began  debt  and  obligation,  out  of  which  I 
have  never  been  and  never  shall  be  extricated  as  long 
as  I  live."  Haydon  had  long  been  accustomed  to 
borrow  money  from  his  poor  father,  which,  however, 
he  did  not  include  in  his  obligations.  Far  different 
was  the  noble  spirit  displayed  by  Fichte,  who  said, 
when  struggling  with  poverty,  "  For  years  I  have 
never  accepted  a  farthing  from  my  parents,  because  I 
have  seven  sisters  who  are  all  young,  and  in  part  un- 
educated ;  and  because  I  have  a  father  who,  were  I  to 
allow  it,  would  in  his  kindness  bestow  upon  me  that 
which  belongs  by  right  to  his  other  children." 

Admiral  Jervis,  Earl  St.  Vincent,  has  told  the  story 
of  his  early  struggles,  and,  amongst  other  things,  of 
his  determination  to  keep  out  of  debt.  "My  father 
had  a  very  large  family," said  he,  "with  limited  means. 
He  gave  me  twenty  pounds  at  starting,  and  that  was 


266  BEING    IN    DEBT. 

all  he  ever  gave  me.  After  I  had  been  a  considerable 
time  at  sea,  I  drew  for  twenty  more,  but  the  bill  came 
back  protested.  I  was  mortified  at  this  rebuke,  and 
made  a  promise  which  I  have  ever  kept,  that  I  would 
never  draw  another  bill  without  a  certainty  of  its 
being  paid.  I  immediately  changed  my  mode  of  liv- 
ing, quitted  my  mess,  lived  alone,  and  took  up  the 
ship's  allowance,  which  I  found  quite  sufficient ;  washed 
and  mended  my  own  clothes  ;  made  a  pair  of  trousers 
out  of  the  ticking  of  my  bed  ;  and  having  by  these 
means  saved  as  much  money  as  would  redeem  my 
honor,  I  took  up  my  bill ;  and  from  that  time  to  this 
I  have  taken  care  to  keep  within  my  means."  Jervis 
for  six  years  endured  pinching  privation,  but  pre- 
served his  integrity,  studied  his  profession  with  suc- 
cess, and  gradually  and  steadily  rose  by  merit  and 
bravery  to  the  highest  rank.  Samuel  Drew's  first  les- 
son in  economy  is  thus  described  by  himself :  "When 
I  was  a  boy,  I  somehow  got  a  few  pence,  and  coming 
into  St.  Austell  on  a  fair  day,  laid  out  all  on  a  purse. 
My  empty  purse  often  reminded  me  of  my  folly ;  and 
the  recollection  has  since  been  as  useful  to  me  as 
Franklin's  whistle  was  to  him." 


SCHILLER, 


RIGHT    USE   OF   TIME.  267 


RIGHT  USE   OF   TIME. 


"Whose  only  labor  was  to  kill  the  time, 

Who  sit  and  loll,  turn  o'er  some  idle  rhyme, 

Then,  rising  sudden,  to  the  glass  they  go, 

Or  saunter  forth  with  tottering  step,  and  slow. 

But  this  too  rude  an  exercise  they  find, 

Then  straight  on  the  couch  their  limbs  they  throw, 

Where  hours  and  hours  they,  sighing,  lie  :eclined, 

And  court  the  vapory  god  soft-breathing  in  the  wind.' 


|IME  and  labor  are  the  two  oars  by  which 
a  man  propels  his  life-boat  toward  the  dis- 
tant shores  of  achievement  and  fruition. 

It  is  astonishing  to  think  how  much  time 
is  thrown  away  and  wasted  each  year,  and 
how  much  could  be  learned  by  those  who 
felt  disposed  to  use  these  spare  moments  in  further- 
ing the  objects  of  their  ambition.  Purpose  and  per- 
sistent industry  make  a  man  sharp  to  discern  oppor- 
tunities, and  turn  them  to  account.  To  the  feeble, 
the  sluggish,  and  the  indolent,  the  happiest  opportu- 
nities avail  nothing ;  but  with  perseverance  the  very 
odds  and  ends  of  time  may  be  worked  up  into  results 
of  the  greatest  value.  An  hour  every  day  withdrawn 
from  frivolous  pursuits,  and  profitably  employed, 
would  enable  a  person  of  ordinary  capacity  to  go  far 
in  mastering  a  complete  science.  It  would  make  an 


268  ODD    MOMENTS. 

ignorant  man  well-informed  in  ten  years.  Stephenson 
taught  himself  arithmetic  and  mensuration  while 
working  in  an  engine-room  during  the  night  shifts, 
and  he  studied  mechanics  during  his  spare  hours  at 
home ;  thus  preparing  himself  for  his  great  work,  the 
invention  of  the  passenger  locomotive.  Watt  taught 
himself  chemistry  and  mechanics  while  working  at  his 
trade. 

Dalton's  industry  began  from  boyhood,  and  at 
twelve  years  of  age  he  taught  a  little  village  school  in 
the  winter,  and  worked  on  his  father's  farm  in  the 
summer.  This  early  habit  of  industry  was  continued 
until  a  day  or  two  before  he  died.  Dr.  Mason  Good 
translated  Lucretius  while  riding  in  his  carriage  in 
the  streets  of  London,  going  his  rounds  among  his 
patients.  Dr.  Darwin  composed  nearly  all  his  works 
in  the  same  way,  while  driving  about  in  his  ''sulky," 
from  house  to  house  in  the  country — writing  down 
his  thoughts  on  little  scraps  of  paper,  which  he  carried 
about  with  him  for  the  purpose.  Hale  wrote  his 
"Contemplations"  while  traveling  on  circuit.  Dr. 
Burney  learned  French  and  Italian  while  traveling  on 
horseback  from  one  musical  pupil  to  another  in  the 
course  of  his  profession.  Kirke  White  learned  Greek 
while  walking  to  and  from  a  lawyer's  office. 

ODD  MOMENTS. 

Elihu  Burritt  attributed  his  first  success  in  self-im- 
provement, not  to  genius,  which  he  disclaimed,  but 
simply  to  the  careful  employment  of  those  invaluable 
fragments  of  time,  called  "odd  moments."  While 
working  and  earning  his  living  as  a  blacksmith,  he 


ODD    MOMENTS.  269 

mastered  some  eighteen  ancient  and  modern  lan- 
guages, and  twenty-two  European  dialects.  Withal, 
he  was  exceedingly  modest,  and  thought  his  achieve- 
ments nothing  extraordinary.  Like  another  learned 
and  wise  man,  of  whom  it  was  said  that  he  could  be 
silent  in  ten  languages,  Elihu  Burritt  could  do  the 
same  in  forty.  *  'Those  who  have  been  acquainted 
with  my  character  from  my  youth  up,"  said  he,  writ- 
ing to  a  friend,  "  will  give  me  credit  for  sincerity 
when  I  say  that  it  never  entered  into  my  head  to  bla- 
zon forth  any  acquisition  of  my  own.  .  .  All  that 
I  have  accomplished,  or  expect,  or  hope  to  accomplish, 
has  been  and  will  be  by  that  plodding,  patient,  per- 
severing process  of  accretion  which  builds  the  ant- 
heap — particle  by  particle,  thought  by  thought,  fact 
by  fact.  And  if  ever  I  was  actuated  by  ambition,  its 
highest  and  warmest  aspiration  reached  no  further 
than  the  hope  to  set  before  the  young  men  of  my 
country  an  example  in  employing  those  invaluable 
fragments  of  time  called  odd  moments." 

Daguesseau,  one  of  the  great  Chancellors  of  France, 
by  carefully  working  up  his  odd  bits  of  time,  wrote  a 
bulky  and  able  volume  in  the  successive  intervals  of 
waiting  for  dinner  ;  and  Madame  de  Genlis  composed 
several  of  her  charming  volumes  while  waiting  for  the 
Princess  Orleans  to  whom  she  gave  daily  lessons. 
Jeremy  Bentham  and  Melancthon  arranged  their 
hours  of  labor  and  repose  so  that  not  a  moment  should 
be  lost.  Ferguson  learned  astronomy  from  the  heav- 
ens while  wrapped  in  a  sheepskin  on  the  Highland 
hills.  Stone  learned  mathematics  while  working  as  a 
journeyman  gardener,  and  Drew  became  acquainted 
with  the  highest  philosophy  in  the  interval  of  cob- 


270  ODD    MOMENTS. 

bling  shoes.  Locke  carried  a  note-book  in  his 
pocket  to  catch  the  scintillations  of  all  the 
conversations  which  he  heard.  Pope,  when  not 
able  to  sleep,  would  get  up  and  write.  Dr.  Rush 
studied  in  his  carriage  while  visiting  patients, 
and  prepared  himself  to  write  not  only  upon  pro- 
fessional but  other  themes,  works  which  are  still 
almost  as  useful  as  when  first  published.  Cuvier,  the 
father  of  Comparative  Anatomy,  also  studied  while 
passing  in  his  carriage  from  place  to  place,  and  by  his 
ceaseless  industry  did  perhaps  more  for  the  physical 
sciences  than  any  other  man  that  ever  lived. 

Franklin  stole  his  hours  of  study  from  meals  and 
sleep,  and  for  years,  with  inflexible  resolution,  strove 
to  save  for  his  own  instruction  every  minute  that 
could  be  won.  Hugh  Miller  found  time  while  pur- 
suing his  trade  as  a  stone-mason,  not  only  to  read, 
but  to  write,  cultivating  his  style  till  he  became  one  of 
the  most  facile  and  brilliant  authors  of  the  day.  Mr. 
Grote,  the  historian  of  Greece,  whose  work  is  by  far 
the  fullest  and  most  trustworthy  on  the  subject,  and 
who  also  snatched  time  from  business  to  write  two 
large  volumes  upon  Plato,  was  a  banker.  Sir  John 
Lubbock,  the  highest  English  authority  on  pre- 
historic archaeology,  has  made  himself  such  by  steal- 
ing the  time  from  mercantile  pursuits.  John  Quincy 
Adams,  to  the  last  day  of  his  life,  was  an  economist 
of  moments.  To  redeem  the  time,  he  rose  early. 
"  I  feel  nothing  like  ennui"  he  said.  "  Time  is  too 
short  for  me,  rather  than  too  long.  If  the  day  were 
forty-eight  hours  long,  instead  of  twenty-four,  I  could 
employ  them  all,  if  I  had  but  eyes  and  hands  to  read 
and  write."  While  at  St.  Petersburg,  he  complained 


ODD    MOMENTS.  271 

bitterly  of  the  great  loss  of  his  time  from  the  civili- 
ties and  visits  of  his  friends  and  associates.  "  I  have 
been  engaged,"  he  wrote,  "the  whole  forenoon,  and 
though  I  rise  at  six  o'clock,  I  am  sometimes  able  to 
write  only  a  part  of  a  private  letter  in  the  course  of 
the  day." 

Dr.  Channing  knew  a  man  of  vigorous  intellect 
who  had  enjoyed  few  advantages  of  early  education, 
and  whose  mind  was  almost  engrossed  by  the  details 
of  an  extensive  business,  who  yet  composed  a  book 
of  much  original  thought  in  steamboats  and  on 
horseback..  These  examples  are  enough,  and  more 
than  enough,  to  show  that  the  moments  commonly 
wasted  during  a  long  life  by  the  busiest  men,  would 
suffice,  if  avariciously  improved,  for  the  execution  of 
even  colossal  undertakings,  which  seemingly  demand 
a  lifetime  of  uninterrupted  leisure.  We  say  there- 
fore, in  the  language  of  that  prodigy  of  industry, 
Goethe,  "  Do  not  wait  for  extraordinary  opportu- 
nities for  good  actions,  but  make  use  of  common 
situations.  A  long-continued  walk  is  better  than  a 
short  flight."  The  small  stones  that  fill  up  the 
crevices  are  almost  as  essential  to  the  firm  wall  as  the 
great  stones  ;  and  so  the  wise  use  of  spare  time  con- 
tributes not  a  little  to  the  building  up  in  good  pro- 
portions, and  with  strength,  a  man's  mind.  If  you 
really  prize  mental  culture,  or  are  deeply  anxious  to 
do  any  good  thing,  you  will  find  time,  or  make  time 
for  it,  sooner  or  later,  however  engrossed  with  other 
employments.  A  failure  to  accomplish  it  can  only 
demonstrate  the  feebleness  of  your  will,  not  that  you 
lacked  time  for  its  execution. 


5  72  KNOWLEDGE. 

"  Old-fashioned  economists,"  says  the  eloquent 
Wirt,  "  will  tell  you  never  to  pass  an  old  nail,  or  old 
horseshoe,  or  buckle,  or  even  a  pin,  without  taking 
it  up ;  because,  although  you  may  not  want  it  now, 
you  will  find  a  use  for  it  some  time  or  other.  I  say 
the  same  thing  to  you  with  regard  to  knowledge. 
However  useless  it  may  appear  to  you  at  the  mo- 
ment, seize  upon  all  that  is  fairly  within  your  reach. 
For  there  is  not  a  fact  within  the  whole  circle  of 
human  observation,  that  will  not  come  into  play  at 
some  time  or  other ;  and  occasions  will  arise  when 
they  involuntarily  present  their  dim  shadows  in  the 
train  of  your  thinking  and  reasoning,  as  belonging  to 
that  train,  and  you  will  regret  that  you  cannot  recall 
them  more  distinctly."  Daniel  Webster  once  re- 
peated with  effect  an  anecdote  which  he  had  treas* 
ured  in  his  memory  for  fourteen  years.  The  cele- 
brated jurist  and  politician  of  Massachusetts,  Caleb 
Gushing,  was  a  man  of  great  energy  and  force  of 
character,  and  one  that  made  the  most  of  every  mo- 
ment. 

KNOWLEDGE. 

And  another  thoughtful  writer  expresses  himself 
on  the  same  subject  in  a  similar  strain  :  "  Every 
kind  of  knowledge,"  he  says,  "  comes  into  play  some 
time  or  other  ;  not  only  that  which  is  systematic  and 
methodized,  but  that  which  is  fragmentary,  even  the 
odds  and  ends,  the  merest  rag  or  tag  of  information. 
Single  facts,  anecdotes,  expressions,  recur  to  the 
mind,  and,  by  the  power  of  association,  just  in  the 
right  place.  Many  of  these  are  laid  in  during  what 
we  think  our  idlest  days.  All  that  fund  of  matter 


KNOWLEDGE.  273 

which  is  used  allusively  in  similitudes  or  illustrations, 
is  collected  in  diversions  from  the  path  of  hard  study. 
He  will  do  best  in  this  line  whose  range  has  been  the 
widest  and  the  freest.  A  man  may  study  so  much 
by  rule  as  to  lose  all  this,  just  as  one  may  ride  so 
much  on  the  highway  as  to  know  nothing  that  is  off 
the  road." 

Indeed,  the  practice  of  writing  down  thoughts  and 
facts  for  the  purpose  of  holding  them  fast,  and  pre- 
venting their  escape  into  the  dim  region  of  forgetful- 
ness,  has  been  much  resorted  to  by  thoughtful  and 
studious  men.  Lord  Bacon  left  behind  him  many 
manuscripts,  entitled  "  Sudden  thoughts  set  down 
for  use."  Erskine  made  great  extracts  from  Burke  ; 
and  Eldon  copied  Coke  upon  Littleton  twice  over 
with  his  own  hand,  so  that  the  book  became,  as  it 
were,  part  of  his  own  mind.  The  late  Dr.  Pye 
Smith,  when  apprenticed  to  his  father  as  a  book- 
binder, was  accustomed  to  make  copious  memoranda 
of  all  the  books  he  read,  with  extracts  and  criticisms. 
This  indomitable  industry  in  collecting  materials  dis- 
tinguished him  through  life,  his  biographer  describing 
him  as  "  always  at  work,  always  in  advance,  always 
accumulating,"  These  notebooks  afterward  proved, 
like  Richter's  "  quarries,"  the  great  storehouse  from 
which  he  drew  his  illustrations  and  metaphors. 

In  saying  these  things,  however,  we  wish  to  ac- 
knowledge with  equal  emphasis  the  necessity  of 
suitable  seasons  of  recreation  in  the  midst  of  this  in- 
tense and  protracted  application,  and  also  the  neces- 
sity of  a  sufficient  amount  of  sleep  with  which  to  re- 
cuperate exhausted  nature.  Modern  life  is  so  driving 
and  busy,  so  restless  and  feverish  in  its  excitements, 


274  CHANGE    AND    VARIETY. 

that  unless  due  care  is  bestowed  upon  the  preserva- 
tion of  mental  vigor  and  clearness  of  thought,  the 
mind  soon  wears  itself  into  a  state  where  all  healthy 
growth  and  accumulations  of  power  are  practically 
impossible.  It  has  been  well  said  that  the  mind,  "If 
not  a  mere  plodding,  mechanical  mind,  is  capricious 
in  its  workings,  and  will  not  be  tyrannized  over.  It 
loves  dearly  to  assert  its  independence,  and  will  be 
consulted  as  to  whether  it  will  do  this  or  that.  It  is 
not  a  mere  machine,  and  cannot  be  used  as  if  it  were 
one.  It  must  often  'gang  its  ain  gait,'  and  some- 
times must  be  left  alone/even  when  it  stoops  to  trifles. 
Many  of  its  processes  go  on  unbidden,  without  our 
control.  In  its  very  highest  efforts  it  abhors  task- 
work, and  utterly  refuses  to  be  a  drudge.  The  hap- 
piest thoughts  and  most  brilliant  fancies,  the  aptest 
similitudes,  are  those  sudden  illuminations,  those 
flashes,  which  come  to  us  in  hours  of  relaxation,  of 
play,  when  we  throw  the  reins  upon  the  neck  of  our 
winged  steed,  and  let  it  roam  where  it  will." 

CHANGE  AND   VAR1ETT. 

It  is  still  further  true  that  change  and  variety  in 
study  are  sometimes  quite  as  beneficial  as  steady  de- 
votion to  any  single  branch  of  intellectual  effort. 
There  seems  to  be  different  sets  of  powers  in  the 
mind,  and  by  pursuing  one  line  of  thought  until 
wearied,  and  then  turning  to  another  of  an  exactly 
opposite  character,  more  can  be  accomplished  in  the 
aggregate,  than  by  following  in  a  continuous  straight 
line  of  mental  exertion.  It  is  not  necessary  to  be 
always  pounding  away  on  one  corner  of  an  anvil,  in 


CHANGE    AND    VARIETY.  275 

order  to  be  busy.  With  a  vigorous,  inquiring  mind, 
idleness,  in  one  sense,  is  impossible.  The  brain  is 
busy,  often,  when  it  seems  to  be  most  at  rest.  Says 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  : 


"  Tax  not  my  sloth  that  I 

Fold  my  arms  beside  the  brook; 
Each  cloud  that  floateth  in  the  sky, 
Writes  a  letter  in  my  book." 

A  mind  that  does  a  good  deal  of  thinking  must 
needs  spend  some  time  gathering  the  raw  material 
for  thought ;  it  must  ruminate  and  browse  among 
books,  and  more  than  this,  it  must  be  turned  over  oc- 
casionally like  summer  fallow,  and  suffered  to  lie  ex- 
posed to  the  various  fertilizing  influences  which,  like 
winds,  sweep  over  it  from  the  great  worlds  of  nature 
and  action,  lying  outside. 

Still  another  desirable  form  of  mental  activity  is 
described  by  N.  P.  Willis,  who  speaks  of  sitting 
down  and  "  reading  sometimes,  and  sometimes  listen- 
ing to  the  faster  falls  of  the  large  drops  without,  and 
sometimes  rising  with  the  stir  of  an  unbidden 
thought,  and  then  composedly  sitting  down  again  to 
some  quaint  book  of  olden  poetry  ; "  but  this  can 
hardly  be  called  idleness. 

Why  ?  Because  the  object  sought  in  the  first  in- 
stance was  mental  enrichment  through  a  pleasing 
change  or  variety  of  mental  life,  and  in  the  other  the 
only  desire  and  wish  was  to  blot  out  all  mind-work, 
and  leave  the  brain  in  a  state  of  utter  vacuity. 
While,  therefore,  it  may  be  well  to  remember  that 
"  of  sloth  comes  pleasure,  of  pleasure  comes  riot,  of 


276  CHANGE    AND    VARIETY. 

riot  comes  disease,  of  disease  comes  spending,  and  of 
spending  comes  want,"  as  an  old  English  author  states, 
adding  with  knowledge  of  modern  justice  that  "  of 
want  comes  theft,  and  of  theft  comes  hanging,"  yet, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  should  not  forget  that  time 
spent  in  physical  culture,  in  necessary  recreation,  in 
sound,  healthful  sleep,  and  in  a  miscellaneous  gather- 
ing of  thought-material  for  future  use,  is  by  no 
means  lost  time ;  for  each  and  all  of  these  diversions 
are  necessary  to  continuous  mental  activity. 

Especially  are  such  breaks  in  study  needful  for 
children  with  undeveloped  minds,  as  instances  are 
numerous  where  a  child,  by  rambling  as  his  fancy  led, 
has  fallen  upon  some  book  which  determined  his 
whole  after-life,  or  has  struck  out  some  line  of  labor 
in  which  he  afterward  became  distinguished.  Thus 
Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  youth,  believing  that  his  brother 
had  concealed  some  apples  beneath  a  large  folio  upon 
an  upper  shelf  in  his  father's  shop,  climbed  up  to 
make  the  capture,  and  finding  no  apples,  attacked  the 
folio,  which  proved  to  be  the  works  of  Petrarch  ; 
and  thus  his  very  idleness  instructed  him,  and  the 
apples  led  him  to  literature. 


HOW    TO    MAKE    MONEY.  277 


HOW  TO  MAKE  MONEY. 

art  of  making  money  is  condensed  into 
four  single  rules,  as  follows  :  Work  hard — 
improve  every  opportunity — economize — 
avoid  debt.  And  these  four  can  again  be 
condensed  into  one,  namely  :  Spend  every 
day  less  than  you  earn.  Nothing  more  than 
this  is  needed,  and  to  this  nothing  can  be  added.  The 
famous  Micawber  in  "  David  Copperfield,"  tersely 
sums  the  matter  up  thus  :  "Annual  income,  twenty 
pounds  ;  annual  expenditure,  nineteen  pounds  nine- 
teen and  six ;  result,  happiness.  Annual  income, 
twenty  pounds,  annual  expenditure,  twenty  pounds 
one  and  six;  result,  misery."  And  this  latter  condi- 
tion was  always  poor  Micawber's  fortune.  As  has  been 
well  said,  there  is  no  working  man  in  good  health  who 
may  not  become  independent,  if  he  will  but  carefully 
husband  his  receipts,  and  guard  jealously  against  the 
little  leaks  of  useless  expenditure.  There  are  a  hun- 
dred persons  who  can  work  hard,  to  every  ten  who 
can  properly  husband  their  earnings.  The  classes 
that  toil  the  hardest  squander  most  recklessly  the 
money  they  earn.  Instead  of  hoarding  their  receipts 
so  as  to  provide  against  sickness  or  want  of  employ- 
ment, they  eat  and  drink  up  their  earnings  as  they  go, 
and  thus  in  the  first  financial  crisis,  when  mills  and 
factories  stop,  and  capitalists  lock  up  their  cash  in- 


278  HOW    TO    MAKE    MONEY. 

stead  of  using  it  in  great  enterprises,  they  are  mined. 
Men  who  thus  live  "from  hand  to  mouth,"  never 
keeping  more  than  a  day's  march  ahead  of  actual  want, 
are  little  better  off  than  slaves. 

To  one  who  has  seen  much  of  the  miseries  of  the 
poor,  it  is  hard  to  account  for  this  short-sightedness 
of  conduct ;  but  doubtless  the  main  cause  is  the  con- 
tempt with  which  they  are  wont  to  look  upon  petty 
savings.  Ask  those  who  spend  all  as  they  go  why 
they  do  not  put  by  a  fraction  of  their  daily  earnings, 
and  they  will  reply,  "That's  of  no  use  ;  what  good  can 
the  saving  of  a  few  cents  a  day,  or  an  occasional  dol- 
lar, do  ?  If  I  could  lay  by  four  or  five  dollars  a  week, 
that  would  ultimately  amount  to  something."  It  is 
by  this  thoughtless  reasoning  that  thousands  are  kept 
steeped  to  the  lips  in  poverty,  who,  by  a  moderate  de- 
gree of  self-denial,  might  place  themselves  in  a  state 
of  comfort  and  independence,  if  not  of  affluence. 
They  do  not  consider  to  what  enormous  sums  little 
savings  and  little  spendings  swell,  at  last,  when  con- 
tinued through  a  long  series  of  years.  Accordingly, 
there  is  no  inward  revolution  in  the  history  of  a  man 
so  important  in  itself  and  in  its  consequences,  as  oc- 
curs at  the  moment  when  a  man  makes  his  first  sav- 
ing. Among  the  heavy  capitalists  in  one  of  our  cities 
some  years  ago,  was  a  builder  who  began  life  as  a 
bricklayer's  laborer  at  one  dollar  per  day.  Out  of 
that  small  sum  he  contrived  to  lay  up  fifty  cents  per 
day,  and  at  the  end  of  the  first  year  he  had  saved 
$182,  from  which  moment  his  fortune  was  made. 
This  beginning  to  lay  up  a  little  at  regular  intervals, 
daily  or  weekly,  is  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  pov- 
erty. When  you  begin  this  habit,  stick  to  it.  If  one 


EXPENSES.  279 

be  faithful  in  pursuing  a  rule  of  small  gains,  the  time 
of  large  increase  cannot  be  very  far  off,  for  one's  in- 
terest and  influence  grows  with  one's  bank  account. 

EXPENSES. 

"Whatever  your  means  be,"  says  Sir  Edward  Lyt- 
ton  Bulwer  in  an  excellent  essay  upon  "  The  Manage- 
ment of  Money,"  "  so  apportion  your  wants  that 
your  means  may  exceed  them.  Every  man  who 
earns  but  ten  shillings  a  week  can  do  this  if  he  please, 
whatever  he  may  say  to  the  contrary ;  for,  if  he  can 
live  upon  ten  shillings  a  week,  he  can  live  upon  nine 
and  eleven-pence.  In  this  rule  mark  the  emphatic 
distinction  between  poverty  and  neediness.  Poverty 
is  relative,  and  therefore  not  ignoble.  Neediness  is  a 
positive  degradation.  If  I  have  only  ^"100  a  year,  I 
am  rich  as  compared  with  the  majority  of  my  country- 
men. If  I  have  ^5,000  a  year,  I  may  be  poor  com- 
pared with  the  majority  of  my  associates,  and  very 
poor  compared  to  my  next-door  neighbor.  With 
either  of  these  incomes  I  am  relatively  poor  or  rich  ; 
but  with  either  of  these  incomes  I  may  be  positively 
needy  or  positively  free  from  neediness.  With  the 
;£ioo  a  year  I  may  need  no  man's  help;  I  may  at 
least  have  '  my  crust  of  bread,  and  liberty.'  But  with 
,£5,000  a  year  I  may  dread  a  ring  at  my  bell;  I  may 
have  my  tyrannical  masters  in  servants  whose  wages 
I  cannot  pay ;  my  exile  may  be  at  the  fiat  of  the  first 
long-suffering  man  who  enters  a  judgment  against 

me No  man  is  needy  who  spends  less 

than  he  has.  I  may  so  ill-manage  my  money,  that, 
>  ith  ^5,000  a  year,  I  purchase  the  worst  evils  of  pov- 


280  SAVING, OUT   OF    DEBT. 

erty, — terror  and  shame  ;  I  may  so  well-manage  my 
money,  that,  with  ^100  a  year,  I  purchase  the  best 
blessings  of  wealth, — safety  and  respect." 

SA  VING. 

Of  course  there  is  such  a  thing  as  being  miserly  and 
mean  in  this  matter  of  saving,  but  we  are  not  advoca- 
ting the  practice  of  any  such  habit,  or  upholding  any 
such  trait  of  character.  It  would  not  be  wise  to  carry 
this  virtue  of  economy  so  far  as  to  change  it  into  a 
positive  vice.  It  would  not  be  well  to  imitate  the 
Earl  of  Westminster,  who  had  an  income  of  four  mil- 
lions a  year,  and  who  once  dismounted  from  his  horse, 
when  he  found  he  had  lost  a  button,  and  retraced  his 
steps  until  he  found  it.  This  was  not  economy,  but 
simple  penuriousness.  On  the  other  hand,  prudence, 
frugality  and  good  management  are  good  mechanics 
for  mending  bad  times  ;  they  occupy  but  little  room 
in  any  dwelling,  but  will  furnish  a  more  effectual 
remedy  for  the  evils  of  life  than  any  silver  or  tariff  bill 
that  ever  passed  Congress.  To  live  on  others'  wealth, 
or  to  ride  with  unpaid-for  horses,  is  to  be  a  cheat,  and 
not  a  gentleman. 

OUT  OF  DEBT. 

Says  Douglas  Jerrold  :  "Be  sure  of  it,  he  who 
dines  out  of  debt,  though  his  meal  be  biscuit  and  an 
onion,  dines  in  'The  Apollo.'  And  then  for  raiment ; 
what  warmth  in  a  threadbare  coat,  if  the  tailor's  re- 
ceipt be  in  the  pocket !  What  Tyrian  purple  in  the 
faded  waistcoat,  the  vest  not  owed  for  !  How  glossy 


OUT    OF    DEBT. 


28l 


the  well-worn  hat,  if  it  covers  not  the  aching  head  of 
a  debtor  !  .  .  Debt,  however  courteously  it  be 
offered,  is  the  cup  of  a  siren,  and  the  wine,  spiced  and 
delicious  though  it  be,  an  eating  poison.  The  man 
out  of  debt,  though  with  a  flaw  in  his  jerkin,  a  crack 
in  his  shoe-leather,  and  a  hole  in  his  hat,  is  still  the 
son  of  liberty,  free  as  the  singing  lark  above  him  ;  but 
the  debtor,  though  clothed  in  the  utmost  bravery, 
what  is  he  but  a  serf  out  upon  a  holiday, — a  slave  to 
be  reclaimed  at  any  instant  by  his  own^r,  the  creditor  ? 
My  son,  if  poor,  see  wine  in  the  running  spring ;  let 
thy  mouth  water  at  a  last  week's  roll ;  think  a  thread- 
bare coat  the  '  only  wear ' ;  and  acknowledge  a  white- 
washed garret  the  fittest  housing  place  for  a  gentle- 
man ;  do  this,  and  flee  debt.  So  shall  thy  heart  be  at 
peace,  and  the  sheriff  be  confounded." 


282  POWER   OF    MONEY 


PO  WER  OF  MONE  Y. 

|HERE  is  power  in  the  possession  of  money. 
And  if  money  can  be  earned  by  honor- 
able and  legitimate  effort,  it  should  be,  al- 
ways. There  is  no  special  virtue  in  be- 
ing poor,  particularly  if  our  poverty  is  the 
result  of  a  lack  of  enterprise  and  energy 
on  our  part ;  on  the  contrary,  poverty  under  such 
circumstances  is  both  a  curse  and  a  disgrace  to  any 
man.  As  an  observing  and  forcible  thinker  remarks: 
"Whatever  may  be, said  of  the  dangers  of  riches, 
the  dangers  of  poverty  are  tenfold  greater.  A  con- 
dition in  which  one  is  exposed  to  continual  want,  not 
only  of  the  luxuries  but  of  the  veriest  necessaries  of 
life,  as  well  as  to  disease  and  discouragement,  is  exceed- 
ingly unfavorable  to  the  exercise  of  the  higher  func- 
tions of  the  mind  and  soul.  The  poor  man  is  hourly 
beset  by  troops  of  temptations  which  the  rich  man 
never  knows. 

"  Doubtless  the  highest  virtues  are  sometimes  found 
to  flourish  even  in  the  cold  clime  and  sterile  soil  of 
poverty.  But  it  is  insufferable  nonsense  to  speak  of 
these  qualities  as  indigenous  or  native  to  poverty, 
when  we  know  they  often  flourish  in  spite  of  it. 
Poverty  is  a  condition  which  no  man  should  accept, 
unless  it  be  forced  upon  him  as  an  inexorable  neces- 
sity or  as  the  alternative  of  dishonor.  No  person 


WHAT    MONEY    DOES.  283 

has  a  right  voluntarily  to  place  himself  in  a  position 
where  he  will  be  assailed  hourly  by  the  fiercest  temp- 
tations, where  he  will  be  able  to  preserve  his  upright- 
ness only  by  a  strength  little  short  of  angelic,  and 
where  he  will  be  liable  at  any  moment  to  become  by 
sickness  a  burden  to  his  friends.  Every  man,  too, 
should  make  some  provision  for  old  age ;  for  an  old 
man  in  the  poorhouse,  or  begging  alms,  is  a  sorry 
sight,  and  suggests  the  suspicion,  however  ill-founded, 
that  his  life  has  been  foolishly,  if  not  viciously  spent." 

WHAT  MONET  DOES. 

It  is  money  which  sets  in  motion  and  keeps  whirl- 
ing the  thousand  wheels  of  industry  in  all  the  differ- 
ent departments  and  varied  pursuits  of  life.  The 
hum  of  machinery,  the  roar  of  railways,  the  busy 
marts  of  trade,  and  the  myriad  activities  of  traffic  by 
land  and  sea,  are  all  built  up  and  sustained  by  the 
use  of  money.  More  than  this,  the  need  of  money 
is  the  cohesive  power  which  binds  society  together, 
and  makes  order,  good  government,  and  civil  virtue 
possible.  If  every  man  in  a  community  had  all  the 
money  he  wanted,  and  a  few  dollars  over,  civil  chaos 
and  anarchy  would  surely  follow.  Labor  is  thus  not 
only  a  blessing  to  the  individual,  but  to  society  as 
well. 

Competition  for  the  possession  of  money  not  only 
evokes  intellectual  skill,  tact,  ingenuity  and  enter- 
prise, but  at  the  same  time  it  acts  as  a  civil  regulator, 
as  a  kind  of  social  balance-wheel,  and  as  a  moral  pre- 
servative ;  keeping  down  the  passions  and  lusts  of 
men,  and  preventing  riotous  outbreaks  of  all  kinds 


284  ACQUIRING    MONEY. 

by  providing  full  employment  for  every  superfluous 
ounce  of  physical  strength,  and  for  every  spare  mo- 
ment of  time.  If  no  one  needed  money,  the  world 
would  soon  come  to  a  stand-still,  so  far  as  progress 
and  civilization  are  concerned.  Should  there  be  no 
necessity  for  useful  labor  of  any  kind  in  order  to 
provide  for  the  physical,  intellectual  and  social  wants 
of  life,  mankind  would  have  nothing  to  do  but  in- 
dulge their  passions,  gratify  their  appetites,  and  kill 
or  conquer  each  other  in  warfare.  In  short,  practical 
savagery  or  barbarism  would  result  at  once. 

ACQUIRING  MONET. 

Furthermore,  the  very  labor  a  man  has  to  perform, 
the  self-denial  he  has  to  cultivate  in  acquiring  money, 
are  of  themselves  an  education.  They  compel  him 
to  put  forth  intelligence,  skill,  energy,  vigilance, 
zeal,  bring  out  his  practical  qualities,  and  gradually 
train  his  moral  and  intellectual  powers.  Mental  dis- 
cipline may  be  got  from  money-getting  as  real  as 
that  which  is  obtained  from  mathematics  ;  "The  soul 
is  trained  by  the  ledger  as  much  as  by  the  calculus, 
and  can  get  exercise  in  the  account  of  sales  as  much 
as  in  the  account  of  stars."  The  provident  man 
must  of  necessity  be  a  thoughtful  man,  living,  as  he 
does,  not  for  the  present,  but  for  the  future  ;  and  he 
must  also  practice  self-denial,  that  virtue  which  is  one 
of  the  chief  elements  in  a  strong  and  well-formed 
character. 

Again,  in  these  times  especially,  money  generally 
gives  to  its  possessor  character,  standing,  and  re- 
spectability. A  pigmy  in  intellect,  with  money,  be- 


ACQUIRING    MONEY.  285 

comes  a  giant  in  influence.  Now,  as  in  Shakespere's 
time,  "  The  learned  head  must  often  duck  to  the 
golden  fool."  Rank,  talents,  eloquence,  learning, 
and  moral  worth,  all  challenge  a  certain  degree  of  re- 
spect ;  but,  unconnected  with  property,  they  have 
comparatively  little  influence  in  commanding  the  ser- 
vices of  other  men.  The  social  standing  is  indicated 
by  the  bank-book.  The  railway  conductor  accents 
his  demand,  the  hotel  clerk  assigns  rooms,  the  dry- 
goods  merchant  graduates  the  angle  of  his  bows  by  it. 
Even  the  seat  to  which  the  sexton  bows  you  in  church 
is  chosen  with  nice  reference  to  your  exchequer. 

"With  money  a  man  can  surround  himself  with 
richer  means  of  enjoyment,  secure  a  more  varied  and 
harmonious  culture,  and  set  in  motion  grander 
schemes  of  philanthropy  in  this  last  half  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  than  at  any  previous  period  in  the 
world's  history.  Science  is  multiplying  with  amazing 
rapidity  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  life  and  the 
means  of  self-culture,  and  money  is  the  means  by 
which  they  are  placed  at  our  disposal.  Money  pro- 
cures a  tight  house,  the  warmest  clothing,  the  most 
nutritious  food,  the  best  medical  attendance,  books, 
music,  pictures  ;  a  good  seat  in  the  concert  or  lecture 
room,  in  the  cars,  and  even  in  the  church  ;  the  ability 
to  rest,  when  weary  in  body  or  brain,  and,  above  all, 
independence  of  thought.  And  besides  all,  there  is 
given  to  some  men  the  power  or  the  faculty  of  accu- 
mulation, showing  that  the  amassing  and  the  right 
use  of  wealth  enter  into  and  constitute  a  part  of  the 
world's  original  design.  Colleges,  hospitals,  muse- 
ums, libraries,  and  railroads  could  never  have  been 
built  without  these  accumulations  of  capital."  To 


286  BETTER   THAN    MONEY. 

get  money  in  a  legitimate  way,  and  to  make  the  most 
of  it  after  it  has  been  earned,  is  the  business  of  those 
who  aim  at  permanent  success. 

BETTER   THAN  MONET. 

While  money  rightfully  and  honorably  obtained  is 
thus  a  power,  a  comfort,  and  a  means  of  doing  great 
good  in  the  world,  it  must  never  be  forgotten,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  there  are  some  things  better,  higher, 
dearer,  more  sacred,  and  more  valuable  even,  than 
money  or  success,  or  good  fortune,  If  success  must 
be  purchased  at  the  sacrifice  of  honor,  honesty,  virtue, 
reputation,  or  a  good  character,  it  were  infinitely  bet- 
ter to  live  and  die  without  it.  than  to  buy  it  at  such  a 
price. 

As  another  has  said:  "  Money-making  is  unhealthy 
when  it  impoverishes  the  mind,  or  dries  up  the  sources 
of  the  spiritual  life  ;  when  it  extinguishes  the  sense  of 
beauty,  and  makes  one  indifferent  to  the  wonders  of 
nature  and  art ;  when  it  blunts  the  moral  sense,  and 
confuses  the  distinction  between  right  and  wrong, 
virtue  and  vice  ;  when  it  stifles  religious  impulse,  and 
blots  all  thought  of  God  from  the  soul.  Money-get- 
ting is  unhealthy,  again,  when  it  engrosses  all  one's 
thoughts,  leads  a  man  to  live  meanly  and  coarsely,  to 
do  without  books,  pictures,  music,  travel,  for  the  sake 
of  greater  gains,  and  causes  him  to  find  his  deepest 
and  most  soul-satisfying  joy,  not  in  the  culture  of  his 
heart  or  mind,  not  in  doing  good  to  himself  or  others, 
but  in  the  adding  of  eagle  to  eagle,  in  the  knowledge 
that  the  money  in  his  chest  is  piled  higher  and  higher 
every  year,  that  his  account  at  the  bank  is  constantly 


POSSESSION   OF    MONEY.  287 

growing,  that  he  is  adding  bonds  to  bonds,  mortgages 
to  mortgages,  stocks  to  stocks."  The  most  pitiable 
wretch  on  earth  is  he  who  has  sold  himself  body  and 
soul,  to  the  devil,  for  the  sake  of  gain,  or  for  one 
brief  hour  of  what  is  called  success  and  glory. 

More  than  this,  Izaak  Walton  tells  us  that  there 
are  as  many  troubles  on  the  other  side  of  riches  as  on 
this,  and  that  the  cares  which  are  the  keys  of  riches 
hang  heavily  at  the  rich  man's  girdle.  How  many 
men,  on  reaching  the  pinnacle  of  wealth,  find,  as  they 
look  down  upon  their  money-bags,  that  they  have 
only  purchased  one  set  of  enjoyments  by  the  loss  of 
another  equally  desirable !  "Do  you  remember, 
Bridget,"  writes  Charles  Lamb,  with  a  tender  retro- 
spect to  his  poverty,  "when  you  and  I  laughed  at  the 
play  from  the  shilling  gallery?  There  are  no  good 
plays  to  laugh  at  now  from  the  boxes."  Many  a  Sir 
Epicure  Mammon,  as  he  sits  down  with  jaded  appe- 
tite to  his  lobster  salad  and  champagne,  thinks  with 
keen  regret  of  the  simple  repast  which  titillated  his 
palate  when  he  was  poor.  The  great  railway  king, 
Hudson,  and  his  wife,  feasting  with  dukes  and 
duchesses  in  their  big  house  at  Albert  Gate,  looked 
back  with  many  a  sigh  to  the  days  when  they  ate 
sausages  for  supper  in  the  little  parlor  behind  their 
paltry  shop  in  the  city  of  York. 

POSSESSION  OF  MONET. 

Nothing  seems  easier  to  a  poor  person  than  to  get 
pleasure  and  ease  and  enjoyment  out  of  the  posses- 
sion of  money.  'tfDh  !"  says  the  novice,  "  if  I  could 
only  buy  all  that  I  wanted,  how  happy  I  should  be." 


288  POSSE&ION    OF    MONEY. 

But  does  not  every  one  know  that  the  very  power  to 
possess  a  thing  often  creates  indifference,  if  not  posi- 
tive dislike,  for  it?  More  than  two-thirds  of  the  en- 
joyment of  life  comes  from  anticipation,  and  not  from 
possession.  If  we  know  we  cannot  have  what  we 
want,  imagination,  like  the  evil  genius  that  it  some- 
times  is,  immediately  commences  to  invest  the  object 
desired  with  a  halo  of  splendor;  but  when  after  much 
effort,  we  at  length  reach  the  prize,  we  usually  dis- 
cover that  the  brilliancy  and  desirability  have  to  a 
great  degree  vanished  from  sight,  if  not  from  the  ob- 
ject itself. 

This  truth  is  well  illustrated  in  the  anecdote  told 
some  years  ago  of  two  men  who  were  conversing 
about  John  Jacob  Astor's  property.  Some  one  was 
asked  if  he  would  be  willing  to  take  care  of  all  the 
millionaire's  property — ten  or  fifteen  millions  of  dol- 
lars— merely  for  his  board  and  clothing.  "  No  !"  was 
the  indignant  answer  ;  "  do  you  take  me  for  a  fool  ?" 
"Well,"  rejoins  the  other,  "that  is  all  Mr.  Astor him- 
self gets  for  taking  care  of  it ;  he's  found,  and  that's 
all.  The  houses,  the  warehouses,  the  ships,  the  farms, 
which  he  counts  by  the  hundred,  and  is  often  obliged 
to  take  care  of,  are  for  the  accommodation  of  others." 
"  But  then  he  has  the  income,  the  rent  of  this  large 
property,  five  or  six  hundred  thousand  dollars  per 
annum."  "Yes,  but  he  can  do  nothing  with  his  in- 
come but  build  more  houses,  and  warehouses,  and 
ships,  or  loan  money  on  mortgages  for  the  conven- 
ience of  others.  He's  found,  and  you  can  make 
nothing  else  out  of  it." 

The  same  truth  is  again  illustrated  in  the  life  of 
Nathan  Myers  Rothschild,  the  great  Jew  banker, 


EMBARRASSED    CIRCUMSTANCES.  289 

who  for  so  many  years  opened  and  closed  the  purse 
of  the  world  to  kings  and  emperors  as  he  listed  ;  but 
who,  notwithstanding  his  vast  wealth,  was  one  of  the 
most  withered  and  miserable  men  that  ever  lived.  To 
part  with  a  shilling  in  the  way  of  charity  cut  him  to 
the  heart,  and  he  was  always  contriving  to  find  out 
the  smallest  possible  pittance  on  which  a  clerk's  soul 
could  be  kept  in  his  body.  With  most  sorrowful 
earnestness  he  exclaimed  to  one  congratulating  him 
on  the  gorgeous  magnificence  of  his  palatial  man- 
sion, and  thence  inferring  that  he  was  happy : 
"Happy  !  ME  happy  f  " 

Those  who  think  Rothschild's  experience  singular, 
may  be  still  further  enlightened  by  that  of  Stephen 
Girard.  When  surrounded  by  riches,  and  supposed 
to  be  taking  supreme  delight  in  the  accumulation  of 
wealth,  he  thus  wrote  to  a  friend  :  "  As  to  myself,  I 
live  like  a  galley-slave,  constantly  occupied,  and  often 
passing  the  night  without  sleeping.  I  am  wrapped 
up  in  a  labyrinth  of  affairs,  and  worn  out  with  cares. 
I  do  not  value  a  fortune.  The  love  of  labor  is  my 
highest  motive.  When  I  rise  in  the  morning,  my 
only  effort  is  to  labor  so  hard  during  the  day  that, 
when  night  comes,  I  may  be  enabled  to  sleep 
soundly." 

EMBARRASSED  CIRCUMSTANCES. 

Even  the  most  specious  and  plausible  reason  for 
seeking  riches,  namely,  to  be  above  the  necessity  of  a 
rigid  economy,  or  the  pressure  of  debt,  Archbishop 
Whately  shows  to  be  unsound  and  deceptive.  It  is 
worth  remarking,  he  observes,  as  a  curious  circum- 


290 


EMBARRASSED    CIRCUMSTANCES. 


stance,  -and  the  reverse  of  what  many  would  expect, 
that  the  expenses  called  for  by  a  real  or  imagined 
necessity  of  those  who  have  large  incomes,  are 
greater  than  those  of  persons  with  slenderer  means  ; 
and  that,  consequently  a  larger  proportion  of  what 
are  called  the  rich  are  in  embarrassed  circumstances, 
than  of  the  poor.  This  is  often  overlooked.  Take 
a  number  of  persons  of  equal  amount  of  income, 
divided  into  classes  from  $500  per  annum  up  to 
$500,000  per  annum,  and  you  will  find  the  percentage 
of  those  who  are  under  pecuniary  difficulties  con- 
tinually augmenting  as  you  go  upward.  And  when 
you  come  to  sovereign  States,  whose  revenue  is 
reckoned  by  millions,  you  will  hardly  find  one  that  is 
not  deeply  involved  in  debt ;  so  that  it  would  appear, 
the  larger  the  income,  the  harder  it  is  to  live  within 
it.  In  other  words,  the  tendency  to  spend  increases 
in  a  greater  ratio  than  the  wealth  ;  and  hence  com- 
petence has  been  wittily  defined  as  three  hundred  a 
year  more  than  you  expend. 

John  Foster  quotes  a  case  to  show  what  simple  de- 
termination will  do  in  helping  a  man  to  be  successful 
in  business,  and  at  the  same  time  to  show  how  little 
power  money  has  to  reform  character.  He  says  : 
"  A  young  man  who  ran  through  his  patrimony, 
spending  it  in  profligacy,  was  at  length  reduced  to 
utter  want  and  despair.  He  rushed  out  of  his  house 
intending  to  put  an  end  to  his  life,  but  stopped  on  ar- 
riving at  an  eminence  overlooking  what  were  once 
his  estates.  He  sat  down,  ruminated  for  a  time,  and 
rose  with  the  determination  that  he  would  recover 
them.  He  returned  to  the  streets,  saw  a  load  of 
coals  which  had  been  shot  out  of  a  cart  on  the  pave- 


MECHANISM    OF   CHARACTER.  291 

ment  before  a  house,  offered  to  carry  them  in,  and 
was  employed.  He  thus  earned  a  few  pence,  re- 
quested some  meat  and  drink  as  a  gratuity,  which 
was  given  him,  and  the  pennies  were  laid  by.  Pur- 
suing this  menial  labor,  he  earned  and  saved  more 
pennies  ;  accumulated  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  pur- 
chase some  cattle,  the  value  of  which  he  understood, 
and  these  he  sold  to  advantage.  He  now  pursued 
money  with  a  step  as  steady  as  time,  and  an  appetite 
as  keen  as  death  ;  advancing  by  degrees  into  larger 
and  larger  transactions,  until  he  became  rich.  The 
result  was,  that  he  more  than  recovered  his  posses- 
sions, and  died  an  inveterate  miser.  When  he  was 
buried,  mere  earth  went  to  earth.  With  a  nobler 
spirit,  the  same  determination  might  have  enabled 
such  a  man  to  be  a  benefactor  to  others  as  well  as  to 
himself.  But  the  life  and  its  end  in  this  case  were 
alike  sordid." 

MECHANISM  OF  CHARACTER. 

Hence  it  has  been  truly  observed  that  it  is  one  of 
the  defects  of  business  too  exclusively  followed,  that 
it  insensibly  tends  to  a  mechanism  of  character. 
The  business  man  gets  into  a  rut,  and  often  does  not 
look  beyond  it.  If  he  lives  for  himself  only,  he  be- 
comes apt  to  regard  other  human  beings  only  in  so  far 
as  they  minister  to  his  ends.  Take  a  leaf  from  the 
ledger  of  such  men,  and  you  have  their  life.  It  is 
against  the  growth  of  this  habit  of  inordinate  saving, 
that  a  man  needs  most  carefully  to  guard  himself ; 
else,  what  in  youth  was  simple  economy,  may  in  old 
age  grow  into  avarice. 


292 


MECHANISM    OF    CHARACTER. 


He  who  recognizes  no  higher  logic  than  that  of 
the  shilling,  may  become  a  very  rich  man,  and  yet 
remain  all  the  while  an  exceedingly  poor  creature. 
For  riches  are  no  proof  whatever  of  moral  worth ; 
and  their  glitter  often  serves  only  to  draw  attention 
to  the  worthlessness  of  their  possessor,  as  the  glow- 
worm's light  reveals  the  grub.  Let  a  man  be  what 
he  will,  it  is  the  mind  and  heart  that  make  a  man 
poor  or  rich,  miserable  or  happy ;  for  these  are  al- 
ways stronger  than  fortune.  Not  only  industry, 
honesty,  frugality,  perseverance  amid  hardships  and 
ever-baffling  discouragements,  but  much  more  mirac- 
ulous attributes,  as  meek  contentment,  severe  self- 
sacrifice,  tender  affections,  unwavering  trust  in  Provi- 
dence, all  are  found  blooming  in  the  hearts  of  the 
poorest  poor, — even  in  the  sunless  regions  of  absolute 
destitution,  where  honesty  might  be  expected  to  wear 
an  everlasting  scowl  of  churlishness,  and  a  bitter  dis- 
belief in  the  love  of  God  to  accompany  obedience  to 
the  laws  of  man. 

And  more  than  this,  it  is  well  to  remember  that 
the  greatest  things  which  have  been  done  for  the 
world  have  not  been  accomplished  by  rich  men,  but 
by  men  generally  of  small  pecuniary  means.  Christi- 
anity was  propagated  over  half  the  world  by  men  of 
the  poorest  class  ;  and  the  greatest  thinkers,  discov- 
erers, inventors,  and  artists,  have  been  men  of  mod- 
erate wealth,  many  of  them  little  raised  above  the 
condition  of  manual  laborers  in  point  of  worldly 
circumstances.  And  it  will  always  be  so.  The  youth 
who  inherits  wealth  is  apt  to  have  life  made  too  easy 
for  him,  and  he  soon  grows  sated  with  it  because  he 
has  nothing  left  to  desire.  Having  no  special  object 


MECHANISM    OF    CHARACTER.  293 

to  struggle  for,  he  finds  time  hang  heavy  on  his 
hands  ;  he  remains  morally  and  spiritually  asleep  ;  and 
his  position  in  society  is  often  no  higher  than  that  of 
a  polypus  over  which  the  tide  floats. 

The  highest  object  of  life  we  take  to  be  forming  a 
manly  character,  and  to  work  out  the  best  develop- 
ment possible,  of  body  and  spirit, — of  mind,  con- 
science, heart,  and  soul.  This  is  the  end  ;  all  else 
ought  to  be  regarded  but  as  the  means.  Accord- 
ingly, that  is  not  the  most  successful  life  in  which 
a  man  gets  the  most  pleasure,  the  most  money,  the 
most  power  of  place,  honor,  or  fame ;  but  that  in 
which  a  man  gets  the  most  manhood,  and  performs 
the  greatest  amount  of  useful  work  and  of  human 
duty.  Money  is  power,  it  is  true,  but  intelligence, 
character,  public  spirit  and  moral  virtue  are  powers, 
too,  and  far  nobler  ones. 


294  WEIGHT   OF   CHARACTER. 


WEIGHT  OF  CHARACTER. 


"  There's  no  power 
In  ancestry  to  make  the  foolish  wise, 
The  ignorant  learned,  the  cowardly  and  base 
Deserving  our  respect  as  brave  and  good. 
Hence  man's  best  riches  must  be  gained,  not  given, 
His  noblest  name  deserved,  and  not  derived." 


[HERE  is  hardly  any  other  word  in  the 
language  which  means  more  in  life,  or 
which  is  more  essential  to  all  that  makes 
life  valuable,  than  the  word  character.  It 
does  not  stand  for  any  one  endowment, 
faculty,  or  gift,  but  it  is  rather  the  sum  of 
all  that  men  and  women  are  in  themselves.  It  does 
not  stand  for  wealth,  for  there  are  many  wealthy  men 
who  have  no  weight  or  strength  of  character.  They 
are  lifted  upon  a  pinnacle  by  the  force  of  circum- 
stances or  by  the  power  of  money,  but  those  around 
and  those  below  them  see  their  essential  hollowness 
and  worthlessness,  and  see  through  their  pretentious 
greatness,  as  though  it  were  but  transparent  glass. 
Neither  is  character  a  synonym  for  intellectual  ability 
simply,  because  there  are  very  many  men  and  women 
of  considerable  talent  who  have  no  weight  of  char- 
acter. 

Character,  then,  may  be  compared  to   a  reservoir 


WEIGHT    OF    CHARACTER.  295 

into  which  all  the  rills  and  streamlets  of  personal 
power  empty  themselves,  forming  the  collected  result 
of  life's  accumulations.  Or,  as  another  has  said,  "It 
is  the  crown  and  glory  of  life.  It  is  human  nature  in 
its  best  form.  It  is  moral  order  embodied  in  the  in- 
dividual. Men  of  character  are  not  only  the  con- 
science of  society,  but  in  every  well-governed  state 
they  are  its  best  motive  power.  The  strength,  the 
civil  security,  and  the  civilization  of  a  nation,  all  de- 
pend upon  individual  character.  It  constitutes  a 
rank  in  itself,  and  dignifies  and  exalts  every  station 
in  life.  It  carries  with  it  an  influence  which  always 
tells." 

Though  a  man  have  comparatively  little  culture, 
slender  abilities,  and  but  small  wealth,  yet,  if  his  char- 
acter be  of  sterling  worth,  he  will  always  command 
an  influence,  whether  it  be  in  the  workshop,  the 
counting-house,  the  mart,  or  the  senate.  Canning 
wisely  wrote  in  1801,  "My  road  must  be  through 
character  to  power ;  I  will  try  no  other  course  ;  and 
I  am  sanguine  enough  to  believe  that  this  course, 
though  not  perhaps  the  quickest,  is  the  surest."  You 
may  admire  men  of  intellect ;  but  something  more  is 
necessary  before  you  will  trust  them.  Hence  Lord 
John  Russell  once  observed,  in  a  sentence  full  of 
truth,  "  It  is  not  the  nature  of  party  in  England  to 
ask  the  assistance  of  men  of  genius,  but  to  follow  the 
guidance  of  men  of  character." 

Our  own  Franklin  attributed  his  success  as  a  pub- 
lic man,  not  to  his  talents  or  his  powers  of  speaking 
— for  these  were  but  moderate — but  to  his  known  in- 
tegrity of  character.  " Hence  it  was,"  says  he,  "that 
I  had  so  much  weight  with  my  fellow-citizens.  I  was 


296 


POWER   OF    CHARACTER. 


but  a  bad  speaker,  never  eloquent,  subject  to  much 
hesitation  in  my  choice  of  words,  hardly  correct  in 
language,  and  yet  I  generally  carried  my  point." 
Character  creates  confidence  in  men  in  high  station 
as  well  as  in  humble  life.  It  was  said  of  the  first 
Emperor  Alexander  of  Russia,  that  his  personal  char- 
acter was  equivalent  to  a  constitution.  During  the 
wars  of  the  Fronde,  Montaigne  was  the  only  man 
among  the  French  gentry  who  kept  his  castle  gates 
unbarred ;  and  it  was  said  of  him,  that  his  personal 
character  was  worth  more  to  him  than  a  regiment  of 
horse. 

POWER  OF  CHARACTER. 

Character  is  power  in  a  much  higher  sense  than 
knowledge  is  power,  for  truthfulness,  integrity,  good- 
ness, honor  and  consistency,  are  qualities  which,  per- 
haps more  than  any  others,  command  the  confidence 
and  respect  of  mankind.  When  King  Stephen,  of 
England,  was  captured  by  his  base  enemies,  and  they 
asked  him  in  derision,  "  Where  is  now  your  fortress?" 
"'Here,"  was  his  bold  reply,  placing  his  hand  upon 
his  heart.  Integrity  in  word  and  deed  is  the  back- 
bone of  character  ;  and  loyal  adherence  to  veracity  its 
most  prominent  characteristic.  One  of  the  finest  tes- 
timonies to  the  character  of  the  late  Sir  Robert  Peel, 
was  that  borne  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  a  few  days  after  the  great  states- 
man's death.  "  Your  lordships,"  he  said,  "must  all 
feel  the  high  and  honorable  character  of  the  late  Sir 
Robert  Peel.  I  was  long  connected  with  him  in  pub- 
lic life.  We  were  both  in  the  councils  of  our 
Sovereign  together,  and  I  had  long  the  honor  to 


POWER   OF   CHARACTER.  297 

enjoy  his  private  friendship.  In  all  the  course  of  my 
acquaintance  with  him,  I  never  knew  a  man  in  whose 
truth  and  justice  I  had  greater  confidence,  or  in  whom 
I  saw  a  more  invariable  desire  to  promote  the  public 
service.  In  the  whole  course  of  my  communication 
with  him,  I  never  knew  an  instance  in  which  he  did 
not  show  the  strongest  attachment  to  truth  ;  and  I 
never  saw  in  the  whole  course  of  my  life  the  smallest 
reason  for  suspecting  that  he  stated  anything  which 
he  did  not  firmly  believe  to  be  the  fact."  And  this 
high-minded  truthfulness  of  the  statesman  was  no 
doubt  the  secret  of  no  small  part  of  his  influence  and 
power. 

There  is  a  truthfulness  in  action  as  well  as  in 
words,  and  in  order  to  possess  weight  of  character,  a 
man  must  really  be  what  he  seems  to  be.  When  an 
American  gentleman  wrote  to  Granville  Sharp,  that 
from  respect  for  his  great  virtues  he  had  named  one 
of  his  sons  after  him,  Sharp  wrote  :  "  I  must  request 
you  to  teach  him  a  favorite  maxim  of  the  family 
whose  name  you  have  given  him — Always  endeavor 
to  be  really  what  you  would  wish  to  appear.  This 
maxim,  as  my  father  informed  me,  was  carefully  and 
humbly  practiced  by  his  father  also,  whose  sincerity 
became  the  principal  feature  of  his  character,  both  in 
public  and  private  life."  Without  the  possession  of 
such  a  character  a  man  can  never  have  self-respect, 
and  he  who  respects  not  himself,  is  sure  to  lose  the 
respect  of  all  others  about  him. 

Hence  the  man  with  true  weight  of  character  is 
just  the  same  in  secret,  as  in  the  sight  of  men — in  a 
word,  he  is  thoroughly  honest,  honest  with  himself, 
honest  with  his  fellows,  and  honest  before  God.  That 


298 


POWER    OF    CHARACTER. 


boy  was  well-trained  who,  when  asked  why  he  did 
not  appropriate  some  pears,  as  nobody  was  there  to 
see  him,  replied,  "  Yes,  there  was — I  was  there  to  see 
myself." 


BIOGRAPHIES,  299 


BIOGRAPHIES  OF 

GARFIELD LINCOLN THOMAS LEE JACKSON  - 

SUMNER STEWART  VANDERBILT  GOULD  — 

HOWE GLADSTONE BRIGHT  - 

BISMARCK EMMETT. 

"  The  man  who  is  not  moved  by  what  he  reads, 
Who  takes  not  fire  at  heroic  deeds, 
Unworthy  the  blessings  of  the  brave, 
Is  base  in  kind,  and  born  to  be  a  slave." 

— COWPER. 


(ORE  minds  are  permanently  benefited 
or  injured  by  what  they  read,  than  by 
what  they  see  and  hear.  "  Out  of  sight, 
out  of  mind,"  often  proves  a  true  prov- 
erb ;  but  that  which  is  lodged  in  thought 
and  memory,  is  not  dependent  upon 
anything  for  its  power.  Hence  the 
diligent  study  of  good  examples  is  one  means  of  self- 
education,  and  the  practice  of  it  can  be  recommended 
without  any  fear  of  ill  results. 

There  is  far  less  of  originality  in  the  world  than  is 
commonly  supposed.  What  men  have  done,  men 
continue  to  do,  thus  making  the  characteristics  of 
human  nature  in  the  long  run  comparatively  uniform, 
and  making  the  results  of  human  life  substantial 
repetitions,  with  more  or  less  of  variation  and  indi- 


300 


A.    GARFIELD. 


vidual  coloring.  "  No  individual  in  the  universe 
stands  alone ;  he  is  a  component  part  of  a  system  of 
mutual  dependencies ;  and  by  his  several  acts,  he 
either  increases  or  diminishes  the  sum  of  human 
good  now  and  forever.  As  the  present  is  rooted  in 
the  past,  and  the  lives  and  the  examples  of  our  fore- 
fathers still  to  a  great  extent  influence  us,  so  are  we 
by  our  daily  acts  contributing  to  form  the  condition 
and  character  of  the  future. 

"The  living  man  is  a  fruit  formed  and  ripened  by 
the  culture  of  all  the  foregoing  centuries.  Genera- 
tions six  thousand  deep  stand  behind  us,  each  laying 
its  hands  upon  its  successor's  shoulders,  and  the 
living  generation  continues  the  magnetic  current  of 
action  and  example  destined  to  bind  the  remotest 
past  with  the  most  distant  future.  No  man's  acts  die 
utterly ;  and  though  his  body  may  resolve  into  dust 
and  air,  his  good  or  his  bad  deeds  will  still  be  bring- 
ing forth  fruit  after  their  kind,  and  influencing  gen- 
erations of  men  for  all  time  to  come.  It  is  in  this 
momentous  fact,  that  the  great  peril  and  responsi- 
bility of  human  existence  lies." 

JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 

What  name  in  American  annals  surpasses  that 
of  James  A.  Garfield,  our  second  illustrious  martyr- 
President  ?  Yet,  what  man  ever  had  an  humbler  begin- 
ning ?  Born  and  cradled  in  a  log  cabin  about  twelve 
miles  from  the  present  city  of  Cleveland,  in  a  tract 
of  country  at  that  time  so  sparsely  settled  as  to  con- 
tain no  regular  public  school,  his  whole  life,  until  he 
attained  to  eminence,  was  but  a  series  of  struggles 


JAMES    A.    GARFIELD.  30! 

with  adverse  circumstances,  crowned  in  each  instance 
by  a  substantial  and  imperishable  victory.  Young 
Garfield,  like  many  another  public  character  in  our 
national  history,  came  from  good  old  New  England 
stock, — the  ancestors  of  both  of  his  parents  having 
been  residents  of  Massachusetts  and  New  Hamp- 
shire, for  generations.  There  is  no  better  place  in 
the  world  to  be  born  in  than  New  England,  pro- 
viding one  can  move  away  when  grown  up. 

Garfield's  father  dying  when  James  was  about  two 
years  old,  the  lad  never  knew  what  it  was  to  have  a 
father's  guidance  and  care,  but  he  was  most  fortunate 
in  having  a  mother  whose  character  partook  of  the 
truly  heroic  type.  And  all  that  Garfield  was  when  he 
died,  he  owed  primarily  to  the  influence  which  his 
mother  exerted  upon  him  during  those  early  years, 
when  everything  stamps  an  impress  upon  the  expand- 
ing mind  that  never  fades  out.  Necessity  compelled 
the  lad  to  go  into  the  work-field  almost  as  soon  as  he 
could  walk  there  alone,  and  this  hardy  exercise,  to- 
gether with  plain  fare,  laid  the  foundation  for  that 
splendid  and  robust  physical  stature  which  distin- 
guished him  up  to  the  fatal  morning  when  the  assas- 
sin's bullet  laid  him  low. 

Young  Garfield  was  not  content,  however,  with 
the  idea  of  merely  getting  a  living  ;  from  early  boy- 
hood he  wanted  to  read  and  learn.  He  believed  he 
could  be  something  and  do  something  noble  and 
good,  like  hundreds  of  others  who  had  risen  from  as 
lowly  a  station  in  life  as  himself ;  and  so  he  bent 
every  energy  of  his  soul  to  the  task  of  securing  a 
mental  outfit  for  life's  work.  This  early  thirst  for 
knowledge  he  carried  with  him  until  the  close  of 


304  JAMBS    A.    GARFIELD. 

margin  is  greater,  that's  all.  I  may  know  just  as 
much  as  you  do  about  the  general  details  of  a  sub- 
ject, but  you  can  go  just  a  little  farther  than  I  can. 
You  have  a  greater  margin  than  I.  You  can  tell  me 
of  some  single  thought  just  beyond  where  I  have 
gone.  Your  margin  has  got  me.  I  must  succumb 
to  your  superiority. 

"  I  recall  a  good  illustration  of  this  when  I  was  in 
college.  A  certain  young  man  was  leading  the  class 
in  Latin.  I  thought  I  was  studying  hard.  I  couldn't 
see  how  he  got  the  start  of  us  all  so.  To  us  he 
seemed  to  have  an  infinite  knowledge.  He  knew 
more  than  we  did.  Finally,  one  day  I  asked  him 
when  he  learned  his  Latin  lesson.  '  At  night,'  he  re- 
plied. I  learned  mine  at  the  same  time.  His  win- 
dow WCLS  not  far  from  mine,  and  I  could  see  him  from 
my  own.  I  had  finished  my  lesson  the  next  night  as 
well  as  usual,  and  feeling  sleepy,  was  about  to  go  to 
bed.  I  happened  to  saunter  to  my  window,  and 
there  I  saw  my  classmate  still  bending  diligently 
over  his  book.  '  There's  where  he  gets  the  margin 
on  me,'  I  thought.  *  But  he  shall  not  have  it  for 
once,'  I  resolved.  '  I  will  just  study  a  little  longer  than 
he  does  to-night.'  So  I  took  down  my  books  again, 
arid,  opening  to  the  lesson,  went  to  work  with  re- 
newed vigor.  I  watched  for  the  light  to  go  out  in 
my  classmate's  room.  In  fifteen  minutes  it  was  all 
dark.  '  There  is  his  margin,'  I  thought.  It  was 
fifteen  minutes  more  time.  It  was  hunting  out  fifteen 
minutes  more  of  rules  and  root-derivatives.  How 
often  when  a  lesson  is  well  prepared,  just  five  minutes 
spent  in  perfecting  it  will  make  one  the  best  in  his 
class.  The  margin  in  such  a  case  is  very  small,  but 


JAMES    A.    GARFIELD.  305 

it  is  all  important.  The  world  is  made  up  of  little 
things." 

It  was  by  taking  account  of  small  fractions  of  time, 
by  utilizing  every  available  five  minutes,  that  Garfield 
stored  his  mind  with  a  vast,  inexhaustible  fund  of  in- 
formation. And  to  do  this  a  rigid  system  became  es- 
sential, and  this  system,  in  turn,  so  disposed  every 
item  of  information  that  it  was  always  subject  to  the 
call  of  the  brain  when  required. 

Soon  after  marriage  Mr.  Garfield's  political  life  be- 
gan. In  1859  he  was  elected  State  Senator  for  Port- 
age and  Summit  counties  in  his  native  State.  Right 
after  this  the  war  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union 
broke  out,  and  Senator  Garfield  at  once  took  a  prom- 
inent part  in  the  debates  which  that  event  occasioned. 
The  well-trained  mental  powers  of  the  young  man 
brought  him  at  once  into  notice,  and  he  soon  became 
conspicuous  among  men  much  older  than  himself. 
From  this  time  on  his  career  was  steadily  and  grandly 
upward.  He  entered  the  war  as  Lieutenant-colonel 
of  the  42d  regiment  of  Ohio  Volunteers,  but  was  soon 
promoted  to  its  full  command.  Going  at  once  into 
active  service  he  showed  remarkable  coolness  and  skill 
in  action,  and  was  speedily  given  a  brigade  in  the 
Army  of  the  Cumberland.  From  this  post  he  was 
transferred  to  South  Carolina  and  made  chief  of  staff 
to  General  Rosecrans,  where  his  services  were  of  a 
brilliant  character,  and  highly  valued.  After  the  battle 
of  Chickamauga,  he  was  made  a  full  Major-General  of 
Volunteers  for  meritorious  conduct. 

Believing  that  the  war  would  soon  terminate,  Gen. 
Garfield  accepted  a  nomination  to  Congress  from  the 
Ohio  Western  Reserve  District  while  in  the  field,  and 


306  JAMES    A.    GARFIELD. 

was  triumphantly  elected.  Resigning  his  position  in 
the  army,  he  entered  the  halls  of  legislation  at  Wash- 
ington and  never  afterward  left  them  until  he  was 
chosen  the  twentieth  President  of  the  United  States. 
Of  his  career  in  Congress  it  is  unnecessary  to  speak 
at  length.  Its  record  forms  a  part  of  the  history  of 
the  country  during  many  eventful  years.  He  was  an 
orator  and  a  statesman.  He  rose  step  by  step  until 
he  became  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  House.  A 
little  before  his  nomination  for  the  Presidency,  he  was 
chosen  United  States  Senator  from  Ohio,  and  entered 
the  Republican  Convention  at  Chicago,  June  2,  1880, 
as  a  delegate  from  the  same  State  to  vote  and  work 
in  the  interest  of  his  friend,  John  Sherman.  It  is  quite 
probable  that  he  had  never  thought  of  his  own  nomi- 
nation until  it  became  evident  that  the  Convention 
would  fail  in  selecting  a  candidate,  owing  to  the 
numerous  divisions  into  which  the  party  had  broken 
up.  When  it  was  seen  that  some  new  man  must  be 
taken  up,  all  minds  and  eyes  turned  instinctively  to 
Gen.  Garfield,  and  against  his  firm  protest  he  was 
nominated  on  the  thirty-sixth  ballot.  During  the  ex- 
citing contest  which  followed,  he  bore  himself  with 
such  dignity  and  modesty  as  to  win  friends  by  every 
word  he  uttered.  Then  came  the  triumphant  elec- 
tion, the  brilliant  and  impressive  inauguration,  three 
months  of  steady  service,  and  the  assassination  which 
resulted  in  a  long  sickness,  ending  in  death.  Never 
was  a  public  man  more  widely  honored  or  more  sin- 
cerely mourned.  The  whole  world  seemed  glad  to  do 
homage  to  his  memory. 

In  summing  up  the  salient  points  of  his  character, 
Lieut.  Gov.  Shuman,  editor  of  the  Chicago  Evening 


JAMES    A.    GARFIELD.  307 

Journal,  says  :  "  That  great  mind  sleeps  forever ; 
that  great  heart,  which  throbbed  warmly  in  sympa- 
thy with  humanity,  and  whose  every  impulse  was 
manful  and  generous,  is  at  peace  ;  that  deep,  strong 
voice;  whose  eloquence  stirred  the  souls  of  the  multi- 
tude, and  was  a  power  in  the  halls  of  legislation,  is 
hushed  into  everlasting  silence.  On  the  shady  shore 
of  Lake  Erie,  on  which  he  loved  to  walk  and  think, 
in  the  bosom  of  his  own  State  of  Ohio,  which  ever 
delighted  to  honor  him,  the  scholarly  statesman,  the 
fearless  soldier,  the  ardent  patriot,  the  noble  repre- 
sentative of  the  best  manhood  of  the  age,  now  rests 
in  the  eternal  stillness  of  death.  His  was  indeed  a 
good  and  a  precious  life,  and  people  of  thoughtful- 
ness,  admirers  of  lofty  themes  and  honorable  ambi- 
tion, all  who  appreciate  and  love  to  honor  the  brave 
and  the  true  in  human  nature,  will  continue  fondly  to 
dwell  upon  this  charming  character.  He  was  a  man 
of  simple  and  childlike  nature,  as  all  really  great  men 
are,  and  of  warm  and  generous  sympathies,  which 
were  free  from  malice,  hate,  or  any  of  those  mean  and 
narrow  defects  and  angularities  which  are  so  often 
blemishes  and  deformities  of  otherwise  great  men. 
There  was  nothing  cramped  or  small  about  the  man. 
He  was  great  in  the  broadest,  best,  and  completest 
sense  of  the  word — a  full,  well-balanced,  well-rounded 
character,  a  nobleman  of  nature,  and  a  nobleman  of 
education,  reason,  and  action. 

"His  life  was  gentle;  and  the  elements 
So  mixed  in  him,  that  Nature  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  This  was  a  MAN  !  " 


308 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 


Side  by  side  with  the  career  and  character  of  Pres- 
ident Garfield,  stands  that  of  an  equally  illustrious 
occupant  of  the  Presidential  chair, 

ABRAHAM   LINCOLN. 

In  many  respects  these  two  men  resemble  each  other, 
and  yet  in  other  respects  they  differ  widely.  Lincoln, 
like  Garfield,  had  a  very  lowly  origin,  and  eventually 
made  himself  all  that  he  was.  Born  in  Kentucky  in 
1809,  ne  was  unfortunate  enough  before  he  was  nine 
years  of  age,  to  lose  by  death  his  only  brother  and 
his  mother,  which  left  him  practically  alone  in  the 
world.  From  thirteen  to  twenty  he  shared  all  the 
rough  experiences  of  frontier  life  in  the  southern  part 
of  the  then  Territory  of  Indiana.  At  twenty,  he  had 
grown  to  be  nearly  six  feet  and  four  inches  in  height, 
with  a  slender  yet  uncommonly  strong  and  muscular 
frame.  Constructing  a  flat-boat,  he  made  with  it  a 
successful  trip  to  New  Orleans,  then  served  as  a  clerk 
in  a  store  and  flouring-mill  at  New  Salem,  111. 
While  there,  the  Black  Hawk  war  broke  out,  and 
young  Lincoln  helped  to  raise  a  company  of  volun- 
teers, and  was  chosen  its  captain.  The  company  af- 
terward disbanded,  but  young  Lincoln,  determined 
to  serve  in  the  campaign,  enlisted  as  a  private,  and 
lived  a  soldier's  life  for  the  next  three  months.  Re- 
ferring to  this  experience  in  a  congressional  speech 
in  after  years,  Mr.  Lincoln  said  :  "By  the  way,  Mr. 
Speaker,  did  you  know  I  was  a  military  hero?  Yes, 
sir,  in  the  days  of  the  Black  Hawk  war,  I  fought,  bled, 
and  came  away.  Speaking  of  General  Cass'  career, 
reminds  me  of  my  own.  I  was  not  at  Stillman's  de- 
feat, but  I  was  about  as  near  it  as  Cass  to  Hull's  sur- 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  309 

render ;  and  like  him  I  saw  the  place  very  soon  after- 
ward. It  is  quite  certain  I  did  not  break  my  sword, 
for  I  had  none  to  break  ;  but  I  bent  a  musket  pretty 
badly  on  one  occasion.  If  Cass  broke  his  sword,  the 
idea  is,  he  broke  it  in  desperation  ;  I  bent  the  musket 
by  accident.  If  General  Cass  went  in  advance  of  me 
in  picking  whortleberries,  I  guess  I  surpassed  him  in 
charging  upon  the  wild  onions.  If  he  saw  any  live, 
fighting  Indians,  it  was  more  than  I  did,  but  I  had  a 
good  many  bloody  battles  with  the  mosquitoes  ;  and 
although  I  never  fainted  from  loss  of  blood,  I  can 
truly  say,  I  was  often  very  hungry." 

At  the  close  of  this  adventure  Mr.  Lincoln  deter- 
mined to  become  a  lawyer,  but  his  education  up  to 
this  time  had  been  sadly  neglected.  In  fact,  he  had 
hardly  been  to  school  a  year  during  his  whole  early 
life  ;  but  he  had  been  a  very  careful  and  diligent 
reader,  and  an  observer  of  men  and  things.  Besides, 
he  was  gifted  by  nature  with  a  mind  of  uncommon 
shrewdness  and  power,  and  he  learned  more  by 
assimilation  than  most  men  do  by  tuition.  Entering 
into  politics,  he  was  at  once  elected  a  representative 
from  Sangamon  county  to  the  State  Legislature,  and 
from  that  time  on,  he  was  hardly  ever  out  of  public 
life  until  the  day  of  his  death.  While  attending  to 
his  legislative  duties,  he  managed  to  complete  his  law 
studies,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1836.  Ten 
years  later  he  took  his  seat  in  the  lower  house  of 
Congress. 

But  wherever  he  went,  and  in  whatever  he  did,  Mr. 
Lincoln  was  always  a  man  of  mark.  Not  only  did  his 
personal  appearance  attract  attention,  but  still  more 
did  the,  utterances  of  his  mind.  He  was,  in  the  best 


3IO  ABRAHAM    LINCOLN. 

sense  of  that  term,  an  original  character.  As  a  lawyer 
he  was  noted  for  his  aptness  and  skill  in  managing 
the  details  of  a  case,  and  especially  for  his  great  power 
over  juries.  He  was  not  what  might  be  called  a  splen- 
did rhetorician,  but  he  spoke  words  of  truthfulness 
and  candor,  expressed  in  quaint  and  pithy  style,  which 
went  straight  to  the  hearts  of  his  hearers,  and  carried 
conviction. 

At  the  close  of  his  brief  congressional  career,  Mr. 
Lincoln  was  again  put  forward  as  the  candidate  of  the 
Republican  party  for  United  States  Senator  from  Illi- 
nois, and  together  with  his  opponent,  Stephen  A. 
Douglas,  canvassed  the  entire  State.  In  that  ever- 
memorable  contest,  he  was  defeated  by  a  small  major- 
ity, but  his  speeches  gave  him  a  national  fame.  So 
much  was  this  the  case,  that  in  1860  at  the  Presiden- 
tial convention  held  in  Chicago,  Mr.  Lincoln's  name 
was  presented  with  six  others  as  a  candidate,  and  on 
the  fourth  ballot  he  was  nominated  over  them  all.  His 
election  followed,  and  at  once  an  awful  civil  war  broke 
out,  the  scenes  of  which  are  still  fresh  in  the  minds  of 
all.  During  that  most  trying  contest,  protracted 
through  long  and  bloody  years,  the  President  bore 
himself  in  such  a  manner  as  to  win  friends  in  all  sec- 
tions of  the  country.  In  the  month  of  September. 
1862,  the  Emancipation  Proclamation  appeared  which 
gave  liberty  to  millions  of  colored  men  who  had  been 
held  in  slavery  at  the  South  from  early  colonial  times. 
In  1864  Mr.  Lincoln  was  re-elected  President,  and  to 
a  congratulatory  address  from  the  National  Union 
League  remarked,  concerning  himself :  "  I  have  not 
permitted  myself,  gentlemen,  to  conclude  that  I  am 
the  best  man  in  the  country ;  but  I  am  reminded  in 


ABRAHAM    LINCOLN.  3!  I 

this  connection  of  the  story  of  an  old  Dutch  farmer, 
who  said  to  a  companion  once  that  it  was  not  best  to 
swap  horses  while  crossing  streams." 

But  the  days  of  this  great  and  good  man  were  fast 
drawing  to  a  close.  Threats  of  assassination  had 
often  been  conveyed  to  him,  but  of  these  he  took  no 
notice,  remarking  that  he  had  no  fear  whatever. 
"There  are  opportunities  to  kill  me,"  he  added,  "every 
day  of  my  life,  if  there  are  persons  disposed  to  do  it, 
It  is  not  possible  to  avoid  exposure  to  such  a  fate  ;  I 
shall  not  trouble  myself  about  it."  On  the  evening 
of  April  14,  1865,  in  company  with  his  family  and  a 
few  friends,  he  visited  Ford's  Theater,  in  Washing- 
ton, and  while  sitting  in  his  private  box,  J.  Wilkes 
Booth  stole  in  behind  him  and  shot  him  in  the  back 
of  the  head,  rendering  him  unconscious.  He  expired 
the  next  morning,  never  speaking  to  or  recognizing 
any  one  from  the  moment  he  was  shot.  The  excite- 
ment that  followed  was  tremendous,  but  the  honored 
martyr  was  borne  peacefully  to  his  grave  at  Spring- 
field, 111.,  amid  the  weeping  and  execrations  of  a  sor- 
row-stricken people.  There  his  ashes  now  rest  in 
peace. 

Mr.  Lincoln's  life  was  passed  amidst  troublous  and 
stormy  times ;  but  few  men  could  have  passed 
through  such  a  fiery  ordeal  more  unscathed.  He  had 
many  enemies  in  public  life,  and  at  times  was  the  ob- 
ject of  most  unsparing  criticism  ;  but  the  lapse  of 
time  only  served  to  bring  out  more  strikingly  the  ad- 
mirable features  of  his  character.  He  seemed  to  be 
raised  up  for  a  special  purpose,  and  that  purpose  he 
fulfilled  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  The  mass  of  the 
people  believed  in  him,  and  victorously  re-elected 


312  GENERAL    THOMAS. 

him,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  his  defamers.  Linked 
with  that  of  Washington,  his  name  will  go  down 
through  the  coming  ages  as  "one  of  the  immortal 
few  which  were  not  born  to  die." 

GENERAL    THOMAS. 

Among  the  many  names  of  great  military  com- 
manders which  our  country  has  produced,  none  shines 
brighter  than  that  of  Major-General  George  H. 
Thomas,  the  hero  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland. 
Some  commanders  were  more  brilliant  and  dashing 
in  movement  than  he,  but  none  possessed  more  solid 
qualities  of  character,  and  none  secured  a  greater 
share  of  personal  respect  and  affection.  Young 
Thomas  first  saw  the  light  in  Virginia  in  1816.  His 
father  was  a  well-to-do  planter,  but  insisted  on  teach- 
ing his  sons  to  rely  upon  themselves  for  advance- 
ment in  life.  From  a  boy  he  determined  to  be  a  sol- 
dier, and  accordingly  availed  himself  of  the  first  op- 
portunity to  enter  West  Point,  which  occurred  in 
1836.  From  a  boy,  also,  he  was  noted  for  great  so- 
briety and  steadiness  of  character,  so  much  so,  in 
fact,  that  his  youthful  associates  used  to  call  him 
George  Washington.  He  never  was  a  wild,  romping 
lad,  but  thoughtful,  studious,  an  apt  scholar,  and  dis- 
tinguished for  sprightliness  and  ability. 

Nothing  special  occurred  during  the  four  years  of 
his  school  life.  He  was  a  close  student,  and  gradu- 
ated twelfth  in  a  class  of  forty-two  members.  Among 
his  classmates  were  Generals  Sherman  and  Getty,  on 
the  Union  side,  and  B.  R.  Johnson  and  R.  H.  Ewell 
of  the  Confederate  army. 


GENERAL    THOMAS.  313 

Thomas  first  saw  actual  service  in  the  Seminole 
Indian  war  in  the  everglades  of  Florida,  as  a  lieuten- 
ant of  artillery.  For  valuable  and  meritorious  ser- 
vices in  that  campaign,  he  was  promoted  one  grade 
by  the  War  Department  at  Washington.  From 
Florida  he  was  sent  to  one  place  after  another  on 
official  routine  duty  until  the  Mexican  war  broke  out 
in  1846,  when  he  was  ordered  to  report  to  General 
Taylor  for  active  service.  For  gallant  conduct  at 
Monterey,  he  was  again  advanced  a  grade, — this  time 
to  captain.  At  Buena  Vista,  it  was  Thomas  who  car- 
ried out  Taylor's  famous  command  to  give  the  enemy 
"  a  little  more  grape,  Captain  Bragg."  And  the  way 
he  did  it  sent  him  up  to  the  rank  of  Major. 

While  filling  the  post  of  teacher  at  West  Point, 
he  met  and  married  Miss  Frances  L.  Kellogg,  a  lady 
of  rare  accomplishments,  who,  during  his  whole  life, 
made  him  one  of  the  best  of  wives,  and  who  lived  to 
mourn  her  great  loss  many  years  after  his  death  in 
manhood's  prime. 

In  1855  Thomas  was  connected  with  the  Second 
Regiment  of  Cavalry,  whose  officers  were  Col.  Al- 
bert Sidney  Johnston,  Lieut.  Col.  Robert  E.  Lee, 
associate  Major  William  J.  Hardee, — three  of  the 
highest  rebel  chieftains  during  the  war.  With  this 
regiment  he  continued  until  1861,  when  Johnston, 
Lee  and  Hardee,  resigned,  and  joined  the  Confed- 
eracy, Thomas  alone  remaining  loyal  to  the  Union 
cause.  At  this  time  he  attained  the  45th  year  of  his 
age,  and  was  in  the  full  flush  of  matured  and  ripened 
manhood.  He  had  a  magnificent  physical  stature  and 
firm  health.  It  is  no  wonder  that  he  rose  from  one 
grade  to  another,  until  he  attained  to  the  full  rank  of 


314  GENERAL   THOMAS. 

Major-General.  Of  his  complete  mastery  of  his  pro- 
fession in  all  its  details,  of  his  consummate  skill  as  a 
general,  the  best  monument  is  the  story  of  his  bat- 
tles ;  for  he  never  lost  a  campaign  or  a  field,  he  never 
met  his  enemy  without  giving  him  cause  to  grieve 
over  the  encounter,  and  he  culled  laurels  from  fields 
on  which  many  brother  officers  were  covered  with 
disgrace.  "  Cautious  in  undertaking,  yet  once  re- 
solved, he  was  bold  in  execution,  deliberate  in  form- 
ing his  plan,  and  patiently  waiting  for  events  to  ma- 
ture, and  when  the  fixed  hour  struck,  he  leaped  into 
great  activity.  His  complete  and  admirable  victory 
at  Mill  Spring  was  the  first  triumph  of  magnitude  for 
the  North,  after  the  disaster  at  Bull  Run,  and  brought 
back  a  needed  prestige  to  the  Union  army.  As  com- 
mander of  the  Fourteenth  Army  Corps  under  Rose- 
crans,  he  was  conspicuous  in  the  marching  and  fight- 
ing which  preceded  Murfreesboro,  and  all-glorious 
in  that  decisive  battle.  And  it  was  he,  who,  alone 
and  unaided,  saved  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  at 
Chickamauga,  when  the  example  of  all  around  him 
might  have  excused  him  for  flying  from  the  field.  It 
was  Thomas  whose  troops,  forming  on  the  plain  be- 
low with  the  precision  of  parade,  made  the  wonder- 
ful charge  on  Missionary  Ridge  which  threw  Bragg 
back  into  Georgia.  It  was  he  who,  in  the  Grand  At- 
lanta campaign,  commanded  under  Sherman  more 
than  three-fifths  of  that  army,  and  who  delivered  the 
opening  battle  at  Buzzard's  Roost,  and  the  closing 
battle  at  Lovejoy's.  It  was  Thomas,  in  fine,  who  set 
the  seal  of  success  on  the  whole  Georgia  campaign." 
The  best  justification  of  his  system,  and  of  his 
slowness,  of  which  many  complained,  was  his  uniform 


GENERAL    THOMAS.  JI5 

success.  He  provided  for  dilemmas  and  obstacles  in 
advance ;  like  Napoleon,  he  suffered  no  surprises, 
made  no  disastrous  experiments  at  the  sacrifice  of 
the  lives  of  his  troops,  and  always  made  the  enemy 
pay  dearly  for  any  advantage  he  might  gain.  His 
natural  impulse  was  to  stand  on  the  defensive,  and 
the  fame  of  his  persistency,  and  of  his  firmness,  be- 
came world-wide.  "In  the  ordinary  tide  of  battle, 
he  was  imperturbable,  self-poised  and  cool,  and  in  mo- 
ments of  great  extremity  which  demand  a  great  soul 
to  conquer  them, — such  as  came  to  overtasked 
Hooker  at  Chancellorsville, — Thomas  shone  out  pre- 
eminent and  superior.  A  little  heavy  and  slow  at 
most  hours,  the  desperate  crises  of  battle  were  alone 
sufficient  to  stir  up  his  temperament  to  fullest  action, 
and  make  his  quiet,  steady  eyes  flame  with  intensest 
battle-fire." 

By  all  his  comrades  in  arms,  Gen.  Thomas  was 
called  the  model  soldier  and  gentleman.  He  inspired 
great  confidence  in  his  soldiers,  and  was  loved  by 
them  in  return.  In  all  his  intercourse  with  his  brother 
officers,  he  was  kind,  courteous,  and  obliging.  In  a 
general  order  issued  after  his  death,  General  Sher- 
man spoke  of  him  as  follows  :  "The  General  has 
known  Gen.  Thomas  intimately  since  they  sat  as  boys 
on  the  same  bench,  and  the  quality  in  him  which  he 
holds  up  for  the  admiration  and  example  of  the 
young,  is  his  complete  and  entire  devotion  to  duty. 
Though  sent  to  Florida,  to  Mexico,  to  Texas,  and  to 
Arizona,  when  duty  there  was  absolute  banishment, 
he  went  cheerfully,  and  never  asked  a  personal  favor, 
an  exemption,  or  leave  of  absence.  He  never  sought 
advancement  of  rank  or  honor  at  the  expense  of  any 


316  GENERAL    ROBERT    E.    LEE. 

one.  Whatever  he  earned  of  these  were  his  own,  and 
no  one  disputes  his  fame.  The  very  impersonation 
of  honesty,  integrity  and  honor,  he  will  always  stand 
to  us  the  beau  ideal  soldier  and  gentleman." 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  Gen.  Thomas  was  given 
the  command  of  the  'military  division  of  the  Pacific, 
with  headquarters  at  San  Francisco.  His  health  by 
this  time  had  become  somewhat  impaired,  and  he 
thought  that  the  climate  of  that  country  might  bene- 
fit him,  but  suddenly,  on  the  28th  of  March,  1870, 
while  sitting  in  his  office  he  was  stricken  with  apo 
plexy  and  died  on  the  evening  of  the  same  day.  At 
the  request  of  his  wife  he  was  buried  at  Troy,  N.  Y., 
in  the  family  lot.  He  left  no  children  to  mourn  for 
him,  but  the  whole  nation  wept  in  sadness  over 
his  bier. 

GEN.  ROBERT  E.    LEE. 

Robert  Edward  Lee,  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Confederate  armies  in  the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  died 
at  Lexington,  Va.  He  was  born  at  Stafford,  West- 
moreland  county,  Virginia,  Jan.  19,  1807.  He  was 
the  son  of  Col.  Henry  Lee,  known  as  "Lighthorse 
Harry,"  of  revolutionary  fame.  In  1825  he  entered 
West  Point,  and  in  1829  he  graduated  second  in  his 
class  of  forty-six  members.  On  graduating  he  was 
appointed  Lieutenant  in  the  corps  of  engineers.  At  a 
later  date,  Captain  Lee  was  selected  as  chief  engineer 
in  Gen.  Scott's  army  in  Mexico.  Owing  to  brave 
conduct  he  came  out  of  the  war  a  Brevet-Colonel. 
From  1852  to  1855  he  was  superintendent  of  West 
Point  Military  Academy.  In  October,  1859,  ne  com- 


GENERAL    ROBERT    E.    LEE.  317 

manded  the  forces  that  were  sent  to  suppress  John 
Brown  at  Harper's  Ferry.  When  Virginia  seceded 
from  the  Union  on  April  17,  1861,  he  resigned  his 
commission  in  the  regular  army.  In  a  letter  to  Gen. 
Winfield  Scott,  he  said  :  "  Save  in  defense  of  my  native 
State,  I  never  again  desire  to  draw  my  sword." 
In  writing  to  his  sister,  the  same  day,  he  said : 
"With  all  my  devotion  to  the  Union  and 
the  feeling  of  loyalty  and  duty  of  an  American 
citizen,  I  have  not  been  able  to  make  up  my  mind  to 
raise  my  hand  against  my  relatives,  my  own  children, 
and  my  home."  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Lee  was 
entirely  sincere  in  taking  this  step.  It  is  equally  true 
that  he  was  devoted  to  the  Union  ;  but  the  dictates  of 
his  heart  and  the  noble  instincts  of  his  soul  forbade 
him  to  fight  in  a  cause,  whether  right  or  wrong,  which 
he  knew  would  ultimately  bring  death  and  desolation 
to  the  homes  and  friends  of  the  Southern  people.  For 
the  sake  of  his  fellow  men  he  was  willing  to  bear  re- 
proach, and  lay  aside  the  feeling  of  loyalty.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  he  hoped,  even  to  the  last  moment,  that  the 
conflict  might  be  avoided.  Virginia  had  not  yet 
united  with  the  confederacy,  although  having  with- 
drawn from  the  Union.  Lee  was  appointed  Major 
General  of  the  forces  of  the  State.  The  State  joined 
the  confederacy  in  May,  and  the  confederate  capital 
was  removed  to  Richmond.  Five  Major  Generals 
were  created  by  the  Southern  Congress  in  the  follow- 
ing order:  Cooper,  A.  S.  Johnston,  R.  E.  Lee,  J.  E. 
Johnston,  and  C.  T.  Beauregard.  On  June  3,  1862, 
the  confederate  army  of  Northern  Virginia  was  placed 
under  the  command  of  Gen.  Lee.  He  soon  had  an 
army  equal  in  numbers  to  the  forces  of  Gen.  Me- 


318  GENERAL    ROBERT    E.    LEE. 

Clellan.  Lee  virtually  raised  the  siege  of  Richmond 
after  the  battle  of  Malvern's  Hill.  Aug.  30  Pope  was 
defeated  at  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run,  and  soon 
after,  Lee  invaded  Maryland.  After  the  battle  of  An- 
tietam,  Sept.  16  and  17,  he  recrossed  the  Potomac 
into  Virginia.  Dec.  13  Lee  defeated  Burnside  at 
Rappahannock,  and  May  2-4  worsted  Hooker  at 
Chancellorsville.  Then  came  the  attempted  invasion 
of  Pennsylvania.  July  1-3  came  the  "inevitable  but 
accidental "  encounter  which  took  place  at  Gettysburg. 
In  the  three  days'  conflict  Lee  lost  36,000,  and  Gen. 
Meade,  the  Union  commander,  23,000  men.  Lee  fell 
back  to  the  Rapidan.  During  the  autumn  and  win- 
ter both  armies  remained  in  Virginia.  In  the  spring 
Gen.  Grant  having  assumed  the  command  of  the  fed- 
eral armies,  came  to  Virginia  to  conduct  the  opera- 
tions against  Lee,  and  to  move  "on  to  Richmond." 
Grant  had  about  140,000  soldiers  and  Lee  60,000. 
Grant  had  taken  the  position  that  the  confederacy 
must  be  destroyed  by  destroying  its  armies  from  this 
time  till  Appomattox.  His  plans  and  operations 
were  directed  against  Gen.  Lee,  who  outgeneraled 
him,  until,  overcome  by  starvation  and  a  vastly  su- 
perior force,  he  surrendered.  After  the  war  Gen. 
Lee  lived  for  a  time  in  seclusion  and  in  comparative 
poverty,  having  lost  his  fortune  in  the  struggle.  In 
1865  he  became  President  of  Washington  College, 
Lexington,  Va.  He  died  from  the  effects  of  a  stroke 
of  paralysis.  Gen.  Lee  was  a  man  of  great  nobility 
of  character,  and  superior  intellectual  powers.  As  a 
soldier  he  was  brave,  and  possessed  great  ability.  He 
is  rivaled  only  by  his  conqueror  in  generalship.  It  is 
claimed  that  he  was  at  one  time  offered  the  com- 


GENERAL   STONEWALL   JACKSON.  319 

mand  of  the  Union  armies,  but  this  claim  is  not  at  all 
substantiated.  His  death  was  a  great  loss  to  the 
South  and  Union,  as  it  is  evident  that  his  policy  from 
the  first  would  have  been  in  favor  of  reconstruction 
and  order  in  the  South. 

GEN.  STONEWALL  JACKSON. 

Gen.  Thomas  Jonathan  Jackson,  familiarly  known 
as  "Stonewall"  Jackson,  an  American  soldier,  was 
born  at  Clarksburg,  Va.,  Jan.  21,  1824,  and  died  at 
Guinea's  Station,  near  Fredericksburg,  May  10,  1863. 
He  graduated  at  West  Point  in  1846,  and  served  in 
the  war  with  Mexico,  in  which  he  was  successfully 
breveted  as  captain  and  major  for  gallant  and  meri- 
torious conduct  at  Contreras,  Churubusco,  and  Cha- 
pultepec.  He  subsequently  served  on  garrison  duty 
in  the  fortifications  in  New  York  Harbor,  and  in 
Florida  during  the  Seminolewar.  In  February,  1852, 
he  resigned  his  commission  in  the  army,  and  was 
chosen  professor  of  natural  and  experimental  philos- 
ophy, and  instructor  in  artillery  tactics,  in  the  Vir- 
ginia Military  Academy  at  Lexington.  He  also  be- 
came Deacon  in  the  Presbyterian  church,  and  was 
somewhat  noted  for  his  extreme  shyness  and  eccen- 
tricities of  habit ;  he  was  indeed  rather  a  laughing 
stock  for  the  students  of  the  academy.  On  the  open- 
ing of  the  civil  war  he  entered  the  confederate  service 
with  the  rank  of  Major,  and  was  placed  in  command 
at  Harper's  Ferry.  From  this  moment  his  demeanor 
underwent  a  sudden  change.  He  had  before  hesitated 
to  lead  in  prayer  at  the  meetings  of  his  church,  and 
was  wont  to  take  his  food  only  in  measured  quanti- 


320  GENERAL    STONEWALL    JACKSON. 

ties.  He  now  seemed  inspired  with  the  genius  of  his 
command,  and  bore  without  a  thought  the  extremest 
hardships  of  a  soldier's  life.  He  was  soon  made  a 
Brigadier  General,  and  took  a  prominent  part  in  the 
first  battle  of  Bull  Run,  July  21,  1861.  Here,  at  a 
moment  when  the  day  was  apparently  lost,  his  brig- 
ade made  so  firm  a  stand  that  some  one  cried  out, 
"  Here  is  Jackson,  standing  like  a  stone  wall ;"  and 
thenceforth  "  Stonewall  Jackson  "  became  his  sobri- 
quet. In  the  spring  of  1862  Jackson  was  in  com- 
mand in  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  where  by  his  celerity 
and  skill  he  foiled  greatly  superior  Union  forces  under 
Banks,  Fremont,  Shields,  and  McDowell.  At  the 
commencement  of  the  seven  days'  battles  on  the 
Peninsula  he  joined  the  army  of  Lee,  and  his  com- 
mand took  a  leading  part  in  the  battle  of  Cold  Harbor, 
June  27,  and  a  less  important  one  in  that  of  Malvern 
Hill,  July  i.  In  the  ensuing  operations  against  Gen. 
Pope,  Jackson's  corps  was  first  sent  northward,  and 
fought  the  indecisive  action  at  Cedar  Mountain,  Aug. 
9.  Not  long  after  being  made  a  Major  General,  he 
was  placed  in  immediate  command  of  nearly  half  of 
Lee's  army,  with  which  he  made  a  rapid  march  and 
gained  Pope's  rear,  whence  resulted  the  second  battle 
of  Bull  Run,  Aug.  29-30,  fought  almost  on  the  same 
ground  as  the  former  one.  In  the  Antietam  cam- 
paign, which  immediately  followed,  Jackson,  by  a 
rapid  movement,  captured  a  union  force  of  about 
n,ooomen  at  Harper's  Ferry,  Sept.  15,  and  then  by 
a  forced  march  joined  Lee,  and  took  a  leading  part 
in  the  battle  of  Antietam,  Sept.  17.  His  corps  was 
actively  engaged  at  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg, 
Dec.  13,  and  he  was  made  Lieutenant  General.  At 


SENATOR    SUMNER.  321 

Chancellorsville,  May  2,  1863,  at  the  head  of  nearly 
two-thirds  of  the  confederate  force,  he  made  a  march 
of  fifteen  miles,  mostly  by  forest  roads,  and  turned 
Hooker's  right,  upon  which  he  fell  by  surprise,  driv- 
ing it  in  rout  upon  the  main  body.  The  engagement 
being  apparently  over,  he  rode  into  the  woods  to  re- 
connoiter,  having  with  him  only  a  small  escort.  Re- 
turning, his  companions  were  taken  for  Union  scouts 
and  fired  upon  by  his  own  men,  several  of  the  escort 
were  killed,  and  Jackson  received  three  balls,  one 
through  each  hand,  and  another  which  shattered  his 
left  shoulder.  He  was  placed  upon  a  litter  ;  but  one 
of  the  bearers  stumbled,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground, 
striking  upon  his  broken  shoulder.  He  was  at  length 
carried  to  the  rear,  where  his  arm  was  amputated. 
But  pneumonia  soon  set  in,  which  was  the  immediate 
cause  of  his  death.  Stonewall  Jackson  is  considered 
by  the  confederates  to  have  been  their  most  brilliant 
commander,  at*  least  of  forces  actually  engaged  in 
the  field. 

SENATOR  SUMNER. 

Owing  to  the  recent  settlement  and  rapid  growth 
of  this  country,  we  have  hardly  had  time,  as  a  nation, 
to  develop  very  many  commanding  examples  of  what 
may  be  called  American  statesmanship.  We  have 
had  many  great  and  good  men  in  our  national  coun- 
cils, many  true  patriots  and  military  heroes,  but  thus 
far  we  have  only  had  a  few  men  whose  ability  and 
learning,  whose  breadth  of  thought  and  wide  scholar- 
ship would  entitle  them  to  the  rank  and  honor  of  be- 
ing called,  both  in  this  country  and  in  Europe,  real 


322  SENATOR    SUMNER. 

and  acknowledged  statesmen.  And  among  these 
few,  no  name  is  more  pre-eminent  than  that  of  Charles 
Sumner.  Mr.  Sumner's  work  is  now  done,  so  far  as 
his  personal  influence  is  concerned,  but  no  history  of 
this  country  can  be  written  with  any  kind  of  impar- 
tiality or  justice,  without  exhibiting  in  marked  out- 
lines, the  extent  and  power  of  his  long-continued 
labors  in  behalf  of  universal  freedom.  He  was  born 
in  Boston,  Mass.,  on  the  6th  of  February,  1811. 
His  father  was  a  lawyer  of  good  standing,  and  for 
fourteen  years,  during  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  held 
the  position  of  Sheriff  of  Suffolk  county.  From  a 
boy,  Charles  was  noted  for  his  uncommon  powers  of 
intellect,  and  an  intense  thirst  for  knowledge.  He 
prepared  for  college,  and  graduated  from  Harvard, 
winning  prizes  and  honors  all  through  the  course, 
and  finishing  at  the  early  age  of  nineteen.  The  next 
year  he  entered  the  Cambridge  Law  School,  enjoy- 
ing the  friendship  and  teachings  of  that  most  eminent 
American  jurist,  Judge  Story.  For  the  next  seven 
years  he  devoted  himself  with  intense  ardor  to  the 
investigation  of  legal  questions,  and  the  editing  of 
legal  books,  lecturing  frequently  in  the  meantime,  to 
the  students  of  the  school. 

In  1837  Mr.  Sumner  set  sail  for  a  trip  to  Europe 
with  a  brilliant  reputation  already  won,  and  bearing 
valuable  letters  of  introduction  to  the  first  men  of 
the  Old  World.  While  there,  he  enjoyed  excep- 
tional advantages  in  the  way  of  personal  and  social 
advantages,  receiving  flattering  attentions  from  dis- 
tinguished persons  of  all  departments  of  public  life. 
In  England,  France,  Germany  and  Italy,  he  made 
the  best  use  of  his  time  and  opportunities,  and  when 


SENATOR   SUMNER.  323 

in  1840  he  returned  to  his  native  land,  he  did  so  with 
a  mind  enriched  by  travel,  and  by  additional  stores  of 
varied  knowledge.  From  1840  to  1845  was  spent  in 
the  practice  or  profession  of  the  law,  lecturing  at 
Cambridge,  and  editing  new  editions  of  law  books. 
It  was  not  until  the  Fourth  of  July,  1845,  tnat  tne 
city  of  Boston,  and  the  country  generally,  woke  up 
to  the  fact  that  a  great  mind  was  coming  on  the  stage 
of  public  activity.  The  occasion  of  this  discovery 
was  an  oration  on  "  The  True  Grandeur  of  Nations," 
which  Mr.  Sumner  delivered  by  invitation  before  the 
municipal  authorities  and  citizens  of  Boston,  and 
which  speedily  attracted  universal  attention  by  its 
noble  sentiments,  beautiful  imagery,  and  classic  dic- 
tion. Soon  after  this  event  Judge  Story  died,  and 
Mr.  Sumner  was  selected  as  his  successor,  the  Judge 
declaring  that  he  could  die  content,  so  far  as  his  pro- 
fessorship  was  concerned,  if  he  knew  that  Charles 
Sumner  would  succeed  him.  But  Mr.  Sumner  de- 
clined this  position,  because  he  had  determined  to 
enter  political  life,  which  he  did  that  same  year  by 
making  another  eloquent  speech  in  Faneuil  Hall, 
against  the  annexation  of  Texas  as  a  slave  State. 

For  the  next  five  years  Mr.  Sumner's  voice  was 
steadily  lifted,  on  every  important  occasion,  against 
the  growing  encroachments  of  the  slave  power,  and 
every  time  he  spoke  only  increased  the  admiration  of 
the  people  for  his  transcendent  abilities  and  true 
greatness  of  soul.  Entering  political  life  as  a  Whig, 
he  soon  left  that  party  and  joined  the  young  and 
growing  Free  Soil  organization,  by  which,  in  connec- 
tion with  some  help  from  the  Democrats,  he  was 
elected  to  the  United  States  Senate  in  1851,  as  sue- 


324  SENATOR    SUMNER. 

cessor  of  Daniel  Webster,  who  had  resigned  to  enter 
President  Fillmore's  cabinet.  But  once  in  the  Senate, 
nothing  could  keep  him  out  of  it  but  the  grim  mes- 
senger of  death.  He  rose  at  once  to  a  national  and 
commanding  eminence  among  the  public  men  of  his 
time,  and  his  speeches  were  read  and  admired  far  and 
near,  as  the  most  eloquent  and  powerful  forensic 
efforts  of  the  age.  He  attacked  the  institution  of 
slavery  with  all  the  fiery  and  fearless  zeal  of  an  old 
crusader,  and  his  telling  blows  delivered  against  that 
stronghold  of  national  iniquity,  made  its  advocates 
mad,  and  its  opponents  happy  in  about  equal  propor- 
tions. His  successive  speeches  were  like  the  suc- 
cessive discharges  of  so  many  big  siege  guns  against 
an  enemy's  fortress,  and  their  pealing  reverberations 
awoke  the  echoes  of  popular  approval  the  world  over. 
Finally,  finding  that  his  powerful  voice  could  not 
be  hushed  by  intimidation  and  threatening,  two 
slavery  champions  from  South  Carolina  stole  up  be- 
hind him,  while  sitting  at  his  desk  in  the  Senate 
Chamber,  in  1856,  and  with  a  rude  bludgeon,  and  in 
true  ruffianly  style,  felled  him  to  the  floor,  and  then 
beat  him  nearly  to  death  after  he  had  fallen  down  un- 
conscious. The  old  motto,  "  Whom  the  gods  wish 
to  destroy,  they  first  make  mad,"  was  never  better 
exemplified  than  in  this  cruel  and  cowardly  assault, 
for  its  immediate  effect  was  to  make  Mr.  Sumner  ten 
times  more  the  idol  of  his  party  than  ever.  The 
whole  country  now  became  aroused  to  a  sense  of  the 
evils  and  perils  belonging  to  an  institution  which 
would  thus  strike  a  blow  at  the  very  foundations  of 
the  Republic,  by  attempting  to  stifle  the  freedom  of 
public  debate.  Indignation  meetings  were  held  all 


SENATOR   SUMNER.  325 

over  the  North,  and  Mr.  Sumner,  for  the  time  being, 
was  regarded  as  a  martyr  to  the  cause  of  popular 
rights  and  human  liberty.  His  bodily  injuries,  how- 
ever, were  so  severe  in  their  nature  as  to  require  a 
cessation  of  all  mental  labor  for  three  years,  and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  skillful  treatment  of  Dr.  Brown 
Sequard  of  Paris,  he  might  never  have  recovered  his 
usual  health  and  strength  again.  But  in  1860  he  was 
able  once  more  to  take  a  part  in  political  discussions, 
and  participated  actively  in  the  canvass  which  re- 
sulted in  the  election  of  Mr.  Lincoln  to  the  Presidency. 

During  the  days  and  years  of  the  war  which  fol- 
lowed, Mr.  Sumner  was  ever  in  advance  of  the  lag- 
ging majority  concerning  the  necessity  of  issuing  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation,  as  a  speedy  mode  of 
bringing  the  war  to  an  end.  And,  in  fact,  from  the 
commencement  of  that  great  national  struggle  to  its 
close,  the  country,  as  a  whole,  was  compelled  by  the 
stern  logic  of  events  to  adopt  the  measures  and  acts 
advocated  by  Mr.  Sumner  for  years,  sometimes,  be- 
fore they  were  made  valid  law  by  statutory  enact- 
ment and  executive  approval, — so  true  is  it  that  es- 
sentially great  minds  are  able  to  run  ahead  of  the 
wants  and  necessities  of  their  time. 

As  a  man,  Mr.  Sumner  was  not  entirely  free  from 
certain  peculiarities  of  deportment,  which  rendered 
him  unpopular  with  those  who  did  not  like  to  ac- 
knowledge his  leadership  ;  but  no  one  ever  ques- 
tioned the  superiority  of  his  mental  endowments,  or 
the  sincerity  of  his  motives.  He  had  a  magnificent 
physical  frame,  and  an  equally  commanding  mind. 
During  his  whole  public  life  he  was  one  of  the 
marked  men  of  the  nation.  His  likes  and  dislikes 


326  A.    T.    STEWART. 

were  very  strong,  and  when  he  felt  himself  slighted, 
he  was  quick  to  resent  the  offense.  This  growing  in- 
firmity of  his  old  age  led  him  to  come  into  collision 
with  the  administration  of  Gen.  Grant  and  its  many 
friends,  on  the  floor  of  the  Senate  ;  but  no  single 
error  of  his  later  years  could  blot  out,  or  permanently 
obscure  the  brilliancy  of  his  public  record.  He  died 
as  he  lived,  one  of  the  few  really  great  men  whom 
this  country  has  produced,  and  whom  the  world 
abroad,  as  well  as  at  home,  publicly  recognized  and 
universally  honored.  The  lesson  of  his  life  is  the 
power  of  devotion  to  principle  and  duty  as  a  means 
of  achieving  enduring  fame. 

A.    T.  STEWART. 

Passing  from  civil  and  military  records,  into  the 
arena  of  commercial  and  mercantile  life,  let  us  look 
for  a  few  moments  at  the  facts  connected  with  the 
career  of  one  of  New  York's  merchant  princes, 
Alexander  T.  Stewart.  Stewart  was  of  Irish  birth 
and  parentage,  though  descended  from  Scottish  an- 
cestry. He  was  born  not  far  from  the  city  of  Belfast 
in  1803.  Before  he  was  eight  years  of  age  he  be- 
came an  orphan,  without  any  near  relatives,  save  an 
aged  maternal  grandfather,  who  took  the  lad  to  his 
home  and  treated  him  with  great  tenderness  and 
care.  The  old  man,  being  a  pious  Methodist,  wanted 
to  make  a  minister  of  young  Stewart,  and  accord- 
ingly put  him  to  school  with  that  end  in  view.  The 
lad  commenced  to  study  with  all  the  vigor  and  am- 
bition of  the  Scotch-Irish  blood  which  ran  in  his  veins, 
and  soon  leaped  to  the  fore-front  of  his  class,  which 


A.    T.    STEWART.  327 

position  he  kept  through  his  entire  collegiate  course. 
He  graduated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  But  before 
the  completion  of  his  studies,  the  pious  old  grand- 
father dropped  into  his  grave,  leaving  the  young,  am- 
bitious student  alone  in  the  world.  A  good  Quaker 
friend  was  appointed  Stewart's  guardian,  and  through 
his  influence  the  young  man  obtained  letters  of  intro- 
duction to  prominent  merchants  of  New  York, 
whither  he  had  resolved  to  come  in  search  of  fame 
and  fortune.  When  scarcely  twenty  years  of  age  he 
landed  in  that  city,  which  was  to  become  his  future 
home,  and  the  theater  of  his  active  and  distinguished 
commercial  career.  By  the  aid  of  his  letters,  he 
readily  obtained  access  to  the  best  social  circles  of 
the  city,  and  was  known  as  a  gentleman  of  pleasing 
address,  and  a  fine  classical  student. 

His  first  employment  was  that  of  a  teacher,  but  ac- 
cident soon  made  him  a  merchant.  Entering  into 
business  relations  with  an  experienced  man  of  his  ac- 
quaintance, he  soon  found  himself  with  the  rent  of  a 
store  on  his  hands,  and  alone  in  a  new  enterprise. 
With  that  indomitable  will  and  wonderful  energy 
which  marked  his  whole  life,  he  went  back  to  Ireland, 
converted  all  his  property  into  money,  bought  a  stock 
of  Irish  laces,  and  with  his  goods  returned  to  New 
York  and  opened  his  store.  A  young  lady  of  his  ac- 
quaintance said  to  him  on  the  day  previous  to  his 
opening,  that  he  must  not  sell  any  goods  until  she 
could  make  the  first  purchase,  as  she  would  be  sure 
to  bring  him  luck.  True  to  her  promise,  she  came 
the  next  day,  and  bought  a  bill  of  laces  of  nearly 
two  hundred  dollars  in  value.  This  was  his  first 
mercantile  transaction,  but  whether  the  young  lady's 


328  A.    T.    STEWART. 

purchase  brought  more  luck  to  him  than  to  herself, 
may  well  be  questioned  ;  for  in  after  years  when 
Stewart  had  grown  wealthy  and  celebrated,  he  found 
this  lady  living  in  a  European  city,  in  very  reduced 
circumstances,  her  husband  having  squandered  all  of 
her  fortune  before  his  death.  Without  informing 
her  of  his  intentions,  he  procured  some  nice  apart- 
ments, had  them  furnished  in.  elegant  style,  and  after 
taking  her  on  a  long  drive  in  his  carriage,  drew  up  at 
the  door  of  the  new  residence,  and  said,  "  If  this 
meets  your  approbation,  it  will  be  your  future  home." 
He  then  settled  an  annuity  upon  her  and  supported 
her  in  affluence  until  her  death.  To  have  rounded 
out  this  romance  in  proper  style,  he  ought  to  have 
married  her,  but  already  having  one  wife,  that  part  of 
the  story  could  not  be  carried  out. 

Mr.  Stewart's  business  rapidly  grew  in  all  direc- 
tions, but  its  founder  had  executive  ability  sufficient 
for  any  and  all  emergencies.  He  made  all  his  ar- 
rangements and  calculations  with  military  precision, 
and  exacted  from  all  of  his  subordinates  an  unquali- 
fied adherence  to  his  rules.  Many  clerks  and  cus- 
tomers could  not  stand  his  system  of  rigid  discipline, 
but  he  never  changed  his  rules  or  prices  to  suit  any 
one.  He  adopted  the  one-price  plan  of  selling,  and 
no  one  under  any  circumstances  was  permitted  to  de- 
part from  it.  He  allowed  no  deceit  or  misrepresen- 
tation as  to  the  condition  or  quality  of  the  goods 
sold,  and  as  a  consequence  all  purchasers  were  sure 
to  get  just  what  they  bought.  This  inspired  confi- 
dence, and  rapidly  increased  the  extent  of  his  sales, 
until  he  became  known  in  every  State,  and  nearly 
every  city  and  village  in  the  land.  On  one  occasion 


A.    T.    STEWART.  329 

at  the  commencement  of  his  career,  he  overheard 
one  of  his  clerks  say  to  a  purchaser,  that  a  piece  of 
calico  she  was  buying  had  fast  colors  and  would  wash. 
In  great  indignation  he  called  the  clerk  to  him  and 
asked  him  what  he  meant  by  telling  what  he  knew  to 
be  untrue.  The  clerk  was  greatly  astonished  and 
stammered  forth  some  lame  excuses  about  that  being 
the  usual  custom  among  merchants,  but  Mr.  Stewart 
interrupted  him  by  saying  that  no  goods  were  to  be 
sold  in  his  store  through  any  species  of  misrepre- 
sentation whatever.  In  later  years,  when  asked  to 
what  he  attributed  his  great  success,  he  answered  : 
"  From  the  first,  I  have  conducted  my  business  on 
the  basis  of  truth,  and  if  I  have  one  earthly  wish  or 
desire  greater  than  another,  it  is  that  my  example  may 
be  commended  and  followed  by  young  men  entering 
into  business,  and  especially  by  young  merchants." 
In  the  management  of  men,  and  of  details,  Mr. 
Stewart  had  all  the  elements  of  a  great  general. 
He  had  a  regiment  of  men  in  his  employ,  and  could 
have  handled  ten  times  as  many  more  with  equal 
ease.  He  was  quick  to  discern,  prompt  to  act,  and 
fearless  and  energetic  in  all  his  movements.  He  was 
sometimes,  though  rarely,  deceived.  It  was  by  a  per- 
fect system  and  thorough  discipline,  that  he  was  able 
to  carry  on  a  business  which  ultimately  reached  every 
State  in  the  Union,  and  nearly  every  state  and  king- 
dom in  Europe.  A  business,  too,  which  included 
that  of  retailer,  jobber,  importer,  and  manufacturer; 
a  business  based  upon  actual  capital  and  not  upon 
credit,  the  whole  machinery  of  which  was  worked 
and  directed  by  a  single  mind.  His  net  income  in 
some  years  was  over  four  millions  of  dollars. 


330 


A.    f.    STEWART. 


Although  Mr.  Stewart  became  a  thorough  Ameri- 
can in  his  feelings,  he  never  forgot  his  native  isle. 
When  the  famine  raged  in  Ireland  many  years  ago, 
he  chartered  an  American  ship,  sat  down  and  ascer- 
tained the  amount  of  the  fortune  which  he  brought 
with  him  from  home,  added  the  interest  thereto, 
loaded  the  vessel  with  an  amount  of  necessary  and 
costly  provisions  equal  to  the  ascertained  sum,  put 
the  American  flag  at  the  fore,  and  sent  the  whole 
proudly  floating  into  the  harbor  at  Belfast,  as  one  of 
America's  contributions  to  suffering  Ireland.  He 
then  advertised  for  young  men  and  women  who 
wanted  to  come  to  America,  gave  a  ship-load  of  them 
free  passage  there,  and  procured  situations  for  many 
of  them  after  they  landed  at  New  York  ;  his  only  re- 
quirement from  each  applicant  being  a  good  moral 
character  and  ability  to  read  and  write. 

Yet,  with  all  his  buiness  activity,  Mr.  Stewart  found 
time  to  pursue  the  studies  of  his  youth.  He  not 
only  preserved  but  extended  his  knowledge  of  the 
classics,  and  kept  green  and  fresh  the  learning  of  his 
college  days.  He  also  cherished  a  warm  love  of  art, 
and  filled  his  princely  residence  on  Fifth  Avenue 
with  some  of  the  choicest  productions  of  American 
and  European  painters  and  sculptors.  He  also  ma- 
tured and  carried  into  execution  royal  plans  for  the 
improvement  of  the  condition  of  the  poor.  Soon 
after  his  first  settlement  in  New  York,  he  married  an 
accomplished  young  lady  from  one  of  the  prominent 
families  of  the  city,  but  no  children  ever  resulted 
from  the  union.  His  home,  however,  was  always 
pleasant  and  harmonious.  He  died  at  a  good  old 
age,  full  of  years  and  honors,  but  his  widow  took  up 


COMMODORE    VANDERBTLT.  33! 

his  work  where  he  left  it,  and  the  whole  vast  business 
went  on  as  before.  Concerning  the  dastardly  out- 
rage of  stealing  his  dead  body  for  a  ransom,  it  only 
need  be  said  that  it  was  an  act  which  shocked  the 
minds  of  the  whole  nation,  and  caused  a  feeling  of 
execration  among  the  general  public,  nearly  or  quite 
as  strong  as  it  produced  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of 
those  immediately  affected  by  it. 

COMMODORE   VANDERBILT. 

Closely  connected  with  commercial  and  mercantile 
life,  is  that  of  marine  and  railroad  enterprises,  with 
which,  in  this  country,  at  least,  the  name  of  Commo- 
dore Cornelius  Vanderbilt  will  ever  be  associated. 
Vanderbilt  was  descended  from  old  Holland  or 
Knickerbocker  stock,  as  it  was  popularly  called.  His 
father  was  a  good,  sturdy  farmer,  living  at  that  time 
on  Staten  Island  in  New  York  harbor.  As  no  ferry- 
boats were  then  in  existence,  it  was  the  custom  of 
each  landholder  to  own  a  boat  for  the  purpose  of 
transporting  farm  products  to  the  city  ;  and  if  ont 
had  a  boat  large  enough  to  accommodate  his  neigh- 
bors, he  usually  did  so.  In  this  way  the  elder  VaA- 
derbilt  had  worked  up  quite  a  little  business  of  his 
own,  when  his  son  came  on  the  stage  of  action  in  the 
month  of  May,  1794.  He  was  a  strong,  healthy 
baby  from  the  start  ;  could  cry  lustily,  and  had  a  will- 
power strong  enough  to  last  him  all  through  life. 
He  took  to  the  water  as  naturally  as  does  a  duck, 
but  cared  little  for  the  teaching  of  schools  or  books. 
Restlessly  active  and  intensely  practical,  he  wanted 
to  be  constantly  out  of  doors,  and  looking  around. 


332  COMMODO*RE    VANDERBILT. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  he  coaxed  his  father  into 
buying  him  a  boat  for  his  exclusive  management, 
paying  for  it  the  sum  of  one  hundred  dollars.  The 
boy  took  possession  of  his  prize  with  a  proudly  beat- 
ing heart,  immediately  went  on  board,  and  set  sail  for 
his  native  dock.  On  the  voyage,  the  boat  struck  a 
hidden  rock,  and  her  young  captain  was  just  able  to 
run  her  ashore  before  she  sank.  Nothing  daunted 
or  discouraged,  the  boy  procured  the  needed  assist- 
ance, raised  her  up,  repaired  the  damage,  and  a  few 
hours  later  brought  his  little  craft  home,  safe  and 
sound.  He  now  in  a  measure  cut  loose  from  his 
father's  care,  and  started  out  in  business  for  himself 
as  a  boatman.  He  had  to  compete  with  many  older 
men  than  himself,  but  none  of  them  had  a  braver 
heart,  or  a  more  determined  purpose  to  succeed. 
Young  Vanderbilt  soon  found  all  the  work  he  could 
do,  and  the  first  hundred  dollars  he  earned,  he  gave 
back  to  his  parents  as  the  price  of  his  boat.  Among 
the  rules  which  he  formed  at  this  time  for  the  gov- 
ernment of  his  personal  conduct,  was  one  that  he 
would  spend  each  week  less  than  he  earned.  By  ad- 
hering to  this  determination  inflexibly,  at  the  end  of 
two  years  he  was  able  to  purchase  another  vessel  of 
larger  dimensions,  and  soon  after  that  became  part 
owner  of  the  largest  ferry-boat  at  that  time  in 
New  York  harbor.  And  all  this  by  the  time  he  had 
reached  the  age  of  eighteen. 

Captain  Vanderbilt  was  known  far  and  near  as  a 
man  of  great  courage,  skill,  and  strength  of  character. 
During  the  war  of  1 8 1 2  he  undertook  to  supply  certain 
American  forts  on  the  Hudson  and  around  the  city 
with  provisions  by  night,  and  when  anything  particu- 


COMMODORE    VANDERBILT  333 

larly  hazardous  was  entered  upon,  Vanderbilt  was  al- 
ways selected  as  the  one  to  carry  the  project  to  a  suc- 
cessful termination.  His  word  could  be  relied  upon  im- 
plicitly, and  this  gave  him  business  of  a  very  profit- 
able character.  At  one  time  during  this  war,  some 
officers  wanted  to  be  taken  to  New  York  from  Fort 
Richmond  in  the  midst  of  a  fearful  storm.  Vander- 
bilt was  sought  out  and  asked  if  he  could  take  the 
party  over.  He  replied  :  "  Yes,  but  I  shall  have  to 
carry  them  under  water  part  of  the  way."  They 
started,  but  arrived  without  a  dry  thread  on  them. 

In  1813  Vanderbilt  married  and  took  up  his  resi- 
dence in  New  York.  He  now  commenced  the  build- 
ing of  vessels,  in  addition  to  his  other  business. 
When  he  was  twenty-three,  he  had  laid  by  the  snug 
little  sum  of  $9,000  of  hard-won  money.  About  this 
time,  steam-power  began  to  be  used  in  connection 
with  navigation,  arid  Vanderbilt,  at  an  early  date, 
saw  clearly  its  great  advantages.  Giving  up  his 
other  vessels,  he  took  command  of  a  little  steam- 
boat carrying  passengers  between  New  York  and 
New  Brunswick,  at  which  latter  place,  passengers 
for  Philadelphia  stopped  over  night,  took  the  stage 
for  Trenton  in  the  morning,  and  from  thence,  an- 
other boat  on  to  Philadelphia.  Vanderbilt  soon  re- 
moved his  family  to  New  Brunswick,  and  opened  a 
large  hotel,  making  it  pay,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
He  continued  in  this  transfer  and  hotel  business  for 
twelve  years,  and  found  himself  at  the  end  of  that 
time  worth  about  $40,000.  He  then  branched  out 
into  business  on  a  larger  scale,  and  for  the  next 
twenty  years  went  on  from  one  enterprise  to  another, 
enlarging  the  sphere  of  his  operations  at  every  move, 


334  COMMODORE    VANDERBILT. 

and  becoming  more  wealthy  and  celebrated  with  the 
lapse  of  every  year.  His  plan  was  to  build  better 
and  faster  boats  than  his  competitors,  and  run  them 
at  lower  rates.  When  gold  was  discovered  in  Cali- 
fornia in  1848,  Vanderbilt  set  up  an  opposition  line 
between  New  York  and  the  Golden  Gate  via  Nica- 
ragua, which  speedily  became  the  cheapest  and 
favorite  route  to  San  Francisco.  After  running  this 
line  for  a  number  of  years  against  the  Panama  Mail 
Co.,  he  sold  out  his  interest  to  a  stock  company  just 
before  the  invasion  of  Nicaragua  by  "  Filibuster 
Walker,"  during  which  the  property  greatly  depre- 
ciated in  value. 

Vanderbilt  had  now  become  a  man  of  great  wealth, 
and  wanting  to  enjoy  a  little  rest,  he  conceived  the 
idea  of  building  a  ship,  and  taking  a  trip  in  it  to 
various  parts  of  Europe.  Accordingly  he  constructed 
the  North  Star  in  the  most  perfect  manner  possible, 
and  with  an  agreeable  party  on  board,  set  sail  in 
May,  1855.  This  was  the  first  steamer  with  a  walk- 
ing-beam engine  that  ever  attempted  to  cross  the  At- 
lantic. In  England,  in  Russia,  at  Constantinople,  at 
Gibraltar  and  Malta,  the  Commodore  and  his  party 
were  received  and  treated  with  great  cordiality  and 
politeness ;  but  at  Leghorn,  then  under  Austria,  the 
vessel  was  looked  upon  with  suspicion  by  the  officials, 
and  subjected  to  constant  surveillance.  After  an  ex- 
cursion of  four  months,  the  party  returned  to  New 
Yo-rk,  having  sailed  a  distance  of  fifteen  thousand 
miles.  About  the  first  thing  which  Vanderbilt  did 
after  the  completion  of  this  voyage,  was  to  put  on 
another  line  of  steamships  to  Europe.  He  built  the 
steamer  A riel  at  a  cost  of  $800,000,  and  pitted  her 


COMMODORE    VANDERBILT.  335 

against  the  best  boats  of  the  Cunard  and  Collins 
lines,  for  a  trial  of  speed  from  New  York  to  Havre, 
in  which  contest  he  came  out  victorious,  as  usual,  the 
Ariel  making  the  fastest  time  then  on  record. 

During  his  long  and  active  nautical  career,  he  built 
and  owned  exclusively  upward  of  one  hundred  steam- 
boats and  ships,  and  never  lost  one  of  them  by  acci- 
dent. He  had  his  own  machine  shops,  where  the 
machinery  was  made  under  his  supervision  ;  he  per- 
sonally directed  the  carpenters,  whom  he  hired  by 
the  day,  usually,  and  invariably  made  and  carried  out 
his  own  plans.  Then  he  never  insured  anything,  re- 
marking that  "good  vessels  and  good  commanders 
were  the  best  kind  of  insurance,  and  that  if  the  cor- 
porations could  make  money  in  the  insurance  busi- 
ness, he  could." 

And  now  comes  one  of  the  most  singular  transi- 
tions in  all  history.  A  man  who  had  devoted  his 
whole  life  to  one  kind  of  business,  and  had  succeeded 
in  it  beyond  his  most  sanguine  hopes,  almost  at  the 
close  of  life,  with  an  ample  fortune  already  secured, 
leaves  that  business  altogether,  and  branches  out  into 
something  new  and  untried.  But  this  did  Commo- 
dore Vanderbilt.  About  1860,  or  thereabouts,  he 
began  to  withdraw  from  all  his  marine  enterprises 
and  turn  his  attention  to  railroads.  The  splendid 
steamer  Ariel\\e  gave  to  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment for  war  purposes,  and  received  therefor  the 
thanks  of  Congress,  and  a  gold  medal.  He  began 
his  new  career  with  the  Harlem  road.  Its  stock  had 
been  kicked  about  for  years,  ranging  from  $40  to 
$70  per  share.  Under  Vanderbilt's  management  it 
jumped  at  once  into  one  of  the  best  equipped  arid 


336  JAY    GOULD. 

best-paying  roads  leaving  New  York.  He  next 
reached  out  for  the  Hudson  River  road,  and  then 
grasped  the  New  York  Central.  All  difficulties 
seemed  to  vanish  before  his  magic  touch.  Going  on 
in  his  path  of  conquest,  he  obtained  control  of  the 
Lake  Shore  &  Michigan  Southern,  Rock  Island,  and 
Northwestern  roads,  successively,  and  began  to  run 
his  palace  cars  without  change  from  the  Atlantic  to 
the  Pacific  coast.  Before  he  died  he  became  one  of 
the  three  richest  men  in  America,  controlling  rail- 
way property  to  the  value  of  $300,000,000.  He 
never  gave  away  much  of  his  vast  wealth,  but  treated 
his  friends  and  relatives  with  the  greatest  kindness. 
Particularly  did  he  care  for  his  aged  mother,  until 
she  died  a  peaceful  and  happy  death  in  the  home 
which  the  son  had  provided  her.  He  always  hated 
deceit  and  underhanded  dealing,  and  loved  frankness 
and  honesty  in  speech  and  act.  He  had  great  will- 
power, self-reliance,  and  ambition.  He  was  quick  to 
read  the  character  and  motives  of  others,  formed  his 
judgments  with  intuitive  rapidity  and  accuracy,  and 
executed  his  plans  boldly.  With  such  mental  char- 
acteristics, and  a  strong,  healthy  frame,  it  is  not 
strange  that  he  became  a  leader  among  men,  and  left 
a  permanent  impress  upon  the  records  of  his  time. 

JA r  GOULD. 

Jay  Gould  was  born  at  Roxbury,  in  Delaware 
County,  a  rude  part  of  Western  New  York,  May  27, 
1837  ;  so  he  is  not  yet  forty-six.  Indeed,  his  coal- 
black  beard  and  hair,  which,  though  thin,  is  scarcely 
touched  with  gray,  indicate  a  man  below  middle  life. 


JAY    GOULD,  337 

His  father,  John  B.  Gould,  was  a  poor  farmer,  and 
could  scarcely  earn  enough  to  support  his  large  family 
in  the  simplest  style.  The  boy  was  the  youngest, 
and,  when  at  the  age  of  ten  or  twelve,  his  great  thirst 
for  knowledge  developed,  his  elder  sisters,  young 
ladies  of  considerable  culture,  became  his  teachers. 
I  couldn't  induce  Mr.  Gould  to  tell  me  much  about 
this  period  of  his  life, — or,  in  fact,  any  other.  "  I 
have  nothing  to  say,"  he  protested;  "why  should  I 
talk  about  myself?  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  at  all 
proper  or  necessary.  I  am  talked  about  now  ten 
times  as  much  as  I  want  to  be,  or  ought  to  be.  I  pre- 
fer to  remain  a  strictly  private  citizen." 

"You  cannot  be  that,"  I  took  the  liberty  of  sug- 
gesting, "unless  you  go  out  of  Wall  street,  out  of 
speculation,  and  out  of  business,  and  put  your  money 
into  bonds  and  live  on  the  interest  of  it.  At  present 
the  public  have  a  right  to  feel  an  interest  in  you." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  he  reluctantly  conceded,  "my 
boyhood  in  Roxbury  was  about  the  same  as  that  of 
other  boys  round  about.  I  worked  around  the  farm, 
planting  and  hoeing,  going  to  the  district  school  some, 
doing  chores,  and  milking  cows  nights,  and  about  the 
most  vivid  memory  of  that  time  is  of  an  old  brindle 
cow  that  I  tried  to  milk.  She  kicked  me  in  the  most 
skilful  manner,  and  I  turned  a  complete  somerset  in 
the  yard.  It  seems  funnier  now  than  it  did  then." 

The  growing  boy  studied  nights,  read  all  the  books 
he  could  get  in  that  sparsely-settled  country,  and  at 
the  age  of  fourteen  appealed  to  his  father  to  send 
him  to  the  academy  in' the  adjoining  town. 

His  father  could  not  afford  it.  The  boy  thought  it 
over  deliberately,  felt  that  his  study  of  mathematics, 


338  JAY  GOULD. 

now  beyond  the  instruction  of  Roxbury,  must  be 
gratified  somehow,  and  resolved  to  go  to  the 
academy  and  pay  his  own  expenses.  He  asked  his 
father's  permission.  "  Of  course  you  can  go  if  you 
want  to,"  was  the  natural  reply  ;  "  you  ain't  good  for 
much  here."  It  was  the  solemn  truth.  Jay  had  al- 
ready discovered  that  he  was  not  born  to  be  a 
farmer, — by  a  large  majority. 

The  next  morning  the  ambitious  youth  hastily 
arose  from  the  breakfast-table,  held  out  his  hand  to 
his  surprised  father,  and  said,  "  Good-bye."  There 
were  tears,  entreaties,  warnings,  but  he  burst  away, 
seized  his  little  bundle  of  clothes,  and  started  afoot 
through  the  wild  and  sparsely-settled  regions  over 
the  mountains  to  Hobart  Academy,  with  fifty  cents  in 
his  pocket.  Thirty-two  years  later,  being  charged 
with  treacherously  selling  out  his  associates,  he  laid 
upon  a  table  stocks  and  bonds  of  his  own,  of  the 
value  of  $35,000,000. 

Arrived  at  Hobart,  and  canvassing  the  town  for 
work,  he  got  a  chance  to  keep  books  for  the  village 
blacksmith,  who  had  started  a  little  store  next  the 
shop.  This  helped  him  out.  He  spent  mornings 
and  evenings  with  the  son  of  Vulcan,  and  paid 
his  way  at  school.  He  rested  little,  played  little, 
talked  little,  worked  hard,  like  Napoleon  at  the  artil- 
lery school  of  Brienne.  He  made  surprising  pro- 
gress. In  six  months  he  had  learned  what  the 
academy  had  to  teach,  and  left  it.  He  left  the  vil- 
lage blacksmith  too,  and  entered  a  hardware  store  as 
clerk,  devoting  his  evenings  to  a  systematic  study  of 
trigonometry  and  surveying.  He  rose  at  four  in  the 
morning,  and  gave  three  hours  to  book  and  slate. 


JAY    GOULD.  339 

He  borrowed  an  old  compass  and  a  set  of  surveying 
tools,  and,  inducing  the  boys  of  the  village  to  become 
his  flag  and  chain-bearers  by  presenting  to  them  toys 
of  his  own  manufacture,  he  succeeded  in  learning 
practical  surveying  "  without  a  master." 

At  the  same  time  he  applied  himself  to  the  hard- 
ware business  so  energetically  that  at  the  age  of 
fifteen,  the  little  prodigy  was  made  full  partner,  and 
intrusted  with  the  entire  charge  of  the  business.  He 
came  to  New  York  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and 
was  able  to  open  an  account  with  Phelps,  Dodge  & 
Co.,  and  other  heavy  houses.  But  he  had  not  yet 
found  his  career.  The  hardware  trade  was  not  con- 
genial, and  the  same  year,  1852,  he  slipped  out,  left 
his  little  capital  behind,  put  his  father  in  his  place, 
and  engaged  to  take  charge  of  a  surveying  party  at 
$20  a  month  to  complete  the  map  of  Ulster  county. 
He  organized  his  party,  and  started  with  $5  in  his 
pocket ;  walked  forty  miles  the  first  day,  and  worked 
a  fortnight,  when  his  employer  suddenly  "  failed " 
before  he  had  paid  them  a  cent.  Gould  at  once  re- 
solved to  carry  out  the  survey  himself.  What  now 
happened  to  the  fifteen-year  old  boy  is  best  told  in 
Mr.  Gould's  own  words  : 

"  I  was  out  of  money,  that  is  to  say,  all  I  had  was 
a  ten  cent  piece,  and  with  that  last  coin  I  determined 
not  to  part.  ( I  did  not  part  with  it  and  never  shall ; 
I  keep  it  now  as  a  memento.)  Fall  was  approaching, 
and  unless  our  surveys  were  finished  before  winter 
set  in,  they  would  be  postponed  until  the  next  spring, 
subjecting  us  to  additional  expense,  and  perhaps 
causing  their  abandonment.  I  determined  to  go 
ahead  if  possible.  But  how  ?  I  had  neither  time 


340  JAY    GOULD. 

nor  money  to  go  back  to  Delaware  county  for  sup- 
plies. I  was  among  entire  strangers,  and  without 
credit.  I  could  neither  advance  nor  retreat  without 
money,  and  so  deeply  did  I  deplore  the  ruin  of  our 
project,  that  I  shed  tears. 

"  Tired  out  with  my  last  day's  tramp,  hungry  and 
dejected,  I  was  resting  in  a  rocky  nook  near  the 
town  of  Shawaugunk,  my  tears  trickling  down  on 
the  face  of  the  compass,  when  I  was  suddenly  hailed 
by  a  farmer,  who  asked  me  to  go  home  with  him  and 
make  a  noon-mark, — a  north  and  south  line,  so 
drawn  that  the  shadow  of  an  upright  object  falling 
upon  it  will  indicate  midday.  I  was  asked  to  take 
dinner  first,  and  joyfully  accepted,  as  I  had  supped 
on  two  small  crackers  the  previous  night,  had  been 
hard  at  work  since  daylight,  and  felt  exceedingly 
faint.  After  a  hearty  dinner,  I  made  the  noon-mark, 
and  was  about  to  bid  the  hospitable  farmer  good-bye, 
when  he  asked  what  I  charged  for  the  work.  I  said 
I  charged  nothing, — he  was  welcome  to  it ;  but  he 
offered  me  half  a  dollar,  insisting  that  it  was  the 
price  a  neighbor  had  paid  for  one.  I  accepted  the 
money,  and  departed  rejoicing.  If  I  had  discovered 
a  new  continent,  I  could  not  have  been  more  elated, 
for,  with  sixty  cents  in  my  pocket,  and  the  prospect 
of  making  other  noon-marks  along  the  route,  I  saw 
a  way  to  carry  my  enterprise  through.  I  can  never 
forget  that  day.  From  that  time  forward,  the  fame 
of  my  noon-marks  preceded  me.  Applications  came 
in  from  farmers  all  around,  and  out  of  this  new 
source  of  supply,  I  paid  all  the  expenses  of  my  sur- 
veys, and  came  out  at  the  completion  with  six  dollars 
in  my  pocket." 


JAY    GOULD.  341 

A  respectable  sum  was  received  from  the  map. 
Young  Gould  now  became  a  professional  surveyor 
and  civil  engineer.  He  mapped  Albany,  Ulster, 
Greene,  and  Delaware  counties  in  New  York,  Lake 
and  Geauga  counties  in  Ohio,  and  Oakland  county 
in  Michigan  ;  made  the  surveys  for  a  plank  road,  and 
a  railroad  ;  wrote  and  published  a  history  of  Dela- 
ware county  ;  started  a  tannery,  where  he  employed 
250  men;  built  a  town  ( Gouldsboro )  ;  and  estab- 
lished a  bank,  and  carried  it  through  the  panic  of 
1857,  before  he  was  twenty-one. 

He  sold  an  interest  in  his  town  for  $80,000,  and 
invested  the  money  in  depreciated  railroad  securities 
after  the  panic.  Soon  after  this  he  secured  a  con- 
trolling interest  in  two  railroads,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  he  embarked  all  his  fortunes  in  the  Erie,  with 
what  success  is  well  known.  With  Herculean  energy 
he  has  reached  out  and  gathered  in  the  reins  of  trans- 
portation dropped  by  other  hands,  till  now  he  is  the 
central  figure  of  30,000  miles  of  railroad,  and  the 
most  potent  financial  genius  in  the  Republic. 

Mr.  Gould  lives  in  an  unpretentious  but  spacious 
mansion  at  the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Forty- 
second  street  in  the  winter  time.  His  tastes  are  sim- 
ple and  democratic.  His  habits  are  thoroughly  do- 
mestic. He  is  not  likely  to  die  as  Tom  Scott  died 
three  years  ago  ;  for  he  uses  neither  liquor  nor  to- 
bacco, loves  his  family,  retires  at  ten,  and  rises  at  six. 
Mr.  Gould  has  a  fine  library,  with  a  choice  selection 
of  books,  strong  in  the  department  of  history,  and 
he  is  a  close  student  out  of  business  hours.  He  is 
not  a  religious  man,  like  Russell  Sage,  but  goes  to 
church  sometimes. 


342  /AY    GOULD. 

Mrs.  Gould  is  a  daughter  of  a  Mr.  Miller,  a  re- 
tired grocer  of  the  city,  and  is  a  quiet,  refined,  and 
interesting  lady.  There  are  six  children,  equally  di- 
vided between  the  sexes,  and  the  three  boys  are  all 
in  business  with  their  father.  The  eldest,  George  J. 
Gould,  a  youth  of  twenty-two,  is  a  member  of  the 
firm  of  W.  E.  Connor  &  Co.,  of  which  Mr.  Morisini 
is  also  a  member,  and  Jay  Gould  himself  is  a  special 
partner.  Connor,  by  the  way,  known  to  his  familiars 
as  "Wash,"  began  life  as  Mr.  Gould's  office  boy,  and 
is  now  a  millionaire, — and  more,  too. 

The  Gould  summer  house  is  at  "Lyndhurst,"  near 
Irvington,  up  the  Hudson,  and  comprises  about  600 
acres  of  beautiful  land,  and  one  of  the  finest  conser- 
vatories and  graperies  in  America.  Rare  plants 'and 
flowers  have  been  sent  to  him  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  until  his  place  is  stocked  with  the  choice 
plants  of  every  zone  and  meridian.  Mr.  Gould  has 
made  a  close  study  of  botany,  and  can  call  most  of 
his  plants  by  name.  He  has  now  in  his  gallery  hun- 
dreds of  valuable  paintings,  his  own  taste  running  to 
modern  art, — the  best  works  of  the  French  masters, — 
Meissonier,  Millet,  Delaroche,  Bouguereau,  Dela- 
croix, etc. 

In  his  office  he  is  very  reserved  and  laconic.  His 
associates  and  clerks  have  learned  to  read  his  mean- 
ing from  a  word  or  look.  His  mail  is  encumbered 
every  day  with  scores  of  begging  letters,  which  never 
reach  him,  but  are  destroyed  by  his  secretary.  He 
agrees  with  Russell  Sage  and  other  wealthy  men, 
that  promiscuous  charity  is  to  be  avoided,  and  he 
gives  only  to  the  best  attested  cases.  During  the 
yellow  fever  troubles,  he  telegraphed  to  the  Mayor 


ELIAS  HOWE.  343 

of  Memphis,   "  Draw  on  me  for  all  the  money  you 
want." 

Mr.  Gould  seldom  goes  to  balls;  doesn't  care  for 
general  society  ;  avoids  display  ;  never  reads  novels  ; 
spends  most  of  his  spare  time  in  the  large  room 
that  is  walled  up  with  5,000  volumes  of  standard 
literature  of  a  solid  sort. 

ELIAS  HOWE. 

The  personal  history  of  Elias  Howe,  the  inventor 
of  the  sewing  machine,  reads  more  like  a  romance 
than  a  reality.  He  was  one  of  eight  children,  and 
was  born  at  Spencer,  Mass.,  1816.  His  father  was 
poor,  and  had  no  little  difficulty  in  providing  for  the 
wants  of  his  numerous  family.  His  occupation  was 
that  of  a  farmer  and  miller.  Young  Howe  worked 
with  his  brothers  and  sisters  in  the  mill  and  on  the 
farm  until  he  was  sixteen,  when  he  went  to  Lowell, 
and  from  thence  to  Cambridge,  working  at  the  latter 
place  in  the  same  shop,  and  boarding  in  the  same  house 
with  Nathaniel  P.  Banks,  who  afterward  became  a 
Speaker  of  the  national  House  of  Representatives, 
and  a  Major-General. 

At  that  time  there  lived  in  Boston  an  eccentric 
mechanical  genius  by  the  name  of  Davis,  who  kept  a 
general  shop  for  the  making  and  repairing  of  all 
sorts  of  machinery,  and  to  him  Howe  engaged  him- 
self as  a  journeyman  machinist.  One  day,  while  en- 
deavoring to  fix  up,  and  perfect  a  knitting  machine, 
young  Howe  overheard  a  conversation  between 
Davis  and  one  of  his  customers  about  the  desirability 
of  inventing  a  sewing-machine,  and  the  big  amount 


344 


ELIAS    HOWE. 


of  money  which  could  be  made  from  it.  Howe  had 
never  thought  of  the  possibility  of  such  a  machine 
until  that  moment,  but  from  that  time  forward  the 
idea  never  left  his  mind.  He  observed  and  thought, 
and  watched  and  studied  over  the  matter  for  five  or 
six  years  before  he  began  to  make  a  model.  By  that 
time  he  had  married,  had  three  children,  and  was 
working  for  nine  dollars  a  week. 

For  many  months  he  stumbled  on  in  the  dark.  His 
first  plan  was  to  make  a  needle  pointed  at  both  ends 
which  should  go  through  the  cloth  at  every  stitch,  as 
in  hand-sewing.  But  this  idea  proved  impracticable. 
Finally,  the  plan  of  using  two  threads  and  a  shuttle 
with  a  curved  needle  occurred  to  him,  and  the  crisis 
of  the  invention  was  passed. 

But  Howe  was  so  poor  that  he  could  hardly  live, 
much  less  buy  materials  for  a  model  machine.  For- 
tunately he  found  an  old  friend  and  schoolmate  who 
had  money,  and  who  had  entered  into  partnership 
with  him  to  bring  the  machine  to  perfection.  People 
generally  thought  Howe  to  be  a  visionary  fellow, 
but  Fisher,  his  friend,  had  a  little  faith  that  possibly 
the  machine  might  be  valuable.  A  year  later  Howe 
was  able  to  sew  his  first  seam  on  the  machine.  This 
was  in  the  month  of  April,  1845.  This  original  ma- 
chine, after  crossing  the  ocean  many  times,  may  still 
be  seen  at  the  office  of  the  Howe  Company  in  Broad- 
way, New  York.  It  is  a  clumsy,  awkward-looking 
affair,  but  it  can  sew  at  the  rate  of  three  hundred 
stitches  a  minute  now.  Every  contrivance  on  it  has 
since  been  improved,  and  many  new  devices  added, 
but  still  it  contains  all  the  essential  principles  en- 
tering into  the  construction  of  all  sewing-machines 


ELIAS    HOWE.  345 

Like  most  inventors,  Howe  found  that  after  his 
machine  was  completed  his  troubles  had  only  begun. 
There  was  a  formidable  prejudice  to  overcome.  The 
tailors  all  thought  the  machine  would  ruin  their  busi- 
ness. Howe  took  his  machine  to  a  clothing  house 
in  Boston,  and  offered  to  sew  anything  which  they 
could  bring  to  him.  He  gave  many  public  exhibitions 
of  the  capacity  of  the  invention  ;  still  no  one  encour- 
aged him,  or  gave  him  an  order.  More  than  that, 
a  machine  cost  then  about  five  hundred  dollars, 
and  few  could  afford  to  pay  such  a  sum.  Nothing 
daunted,  however,  Howe  applied  for  a  patent,  and  in 
the  meantime  worked  as  an  engineer  on  one  of  the 
railroads  terminating  in  his  native  State.  After  the 
patent  had  been  granted,  Howe  and  Fisher  went  to 
Washington  and  gave  a  public  exhibition  of  the  ma- 
chine at  a  fair,  but  still  no  one  wanted  it.  Fisher 
thereupon  became  discouraged,  and  refused  to  ad- 
vance any  more  money.  He  had  already  expended 
two  thousand  dollars,  and  did  not  believe  the  ma- 
chine would  ever  meet  with  a  ready  sale. 

In  1846,  one  of  Howe's  brothers,  Amasa  B.,  took 
the  machine  to  England,  and  there  found  an  English 
manufacturer  who  would  pay  three  thousand  dollars 
for  that  machine  together  with  the  right  to  manufact- 
ure as  many  more  as  he  pleased.  There  was  also  a 
verbal  understanding  that  the  manufacturer  should 
pay  the  inventor  three  pounds  for  every  machine  sold, 
but  this  agreement,  not  being  in  writing,  was  never 
carried  out.  The  English  manufacturer,  whose  name 
was  William  Thomas,  patented  the  invention,  intro- 
duced it  into  general  use,  and  cleared  on  his  invest- 
ment a  profit  of  about  a  million  dollars.  Thomas 


346  ErtAS    HOWE. 

further  offered  the  inventor  the  sum  of  three  pounds 
a  week  if  he  would  come  over  to  England  and  adapt 
his  machine  to  the  particular  business  in  which 
Thomas  was  at  that  time  engaged.  Not  knowing 
what  else  to  do,  Howe  accepted  the  offer,  and  re- 
moved to  London  with  his  family.  After  com- 
pleting the  adaptation,  Thomas  ungenerously  turned 
Howe  adrift  with  a  sick  wife,  three  children,  and  but 
little  money. 

Fortunately,  again,  Howe  found  another  friend 
from  whom  he  hired  a  room  and  borrowed  some 
tools,  and  began  to  make  his  fourth  machine.  But 
his  funds  gave  out,  and  his  family  were  reduced  to  a 
condition  of  great  poverty.  Thinking  he  could  get 
along  better  alone,  he  resolved  to  send  his  family 
back  to  America  while  he  could  ;  so,  gathering  to- 
gether all  the  money  he  could  raise,  he  put  them  on 
board  a  vessel,  and  bade  them  good-bye.  Some  linen 
came  to  the  family  from  the  washerwoman  just  be- 
fore their  departure,  but  they  were  too  poor  to  pay 
the  bill,  and  were  compelled  to  leave  it  behind. 
After  their  departure,  Howe  lived  and  worked  in  one 
little  room,  boarding  himself.  After  months  of 
labor  he  finished  the  machine,  but  all  he  could  get 
offered  for  it  was  five  pounds.  The  buyer  gave  Howe 
his  note  for  that  amount,  and  Howe  sold  the  note 
for  four  pounds.  He  then  pawned  his  letters-patent, 
and  with  the  money  set  sail  for  home  as  a  steerage 
passenger,  arriving  in  New  York  with  half  a  crown 
in  his  pocket  as  a  net  result  of  all  his  labor  for  four 
years.  He  soon  found  work  as  a  machinist,  and  then 
word  came  that  his  wife  was  dying,  but  he  had  not 
money  enough  to  go  and  see  her.  His  father  came 


ELIAS    HOWE.  347 

to  his  rescue,  and  sent  him  ten  dollars  ;  he  borrowed 
some  good  clothes  and  reached  the  bedside  of  his 
wife  just  in  time  to  receive  her  last  words  of  affection. 
After  the  funeral,  intelligence  was  brought  that  the 
ship  which  contained  all  his  household  goods  had 
been  wrecked,  and  would  prove  a  total  loss. 

By  this  time,  Howe's  accumulated  misfortunes  be- 
gan to  tell  heavily  upon  his  personal  appearance,  and 
upon  his  spirits.  He  looked  old  and  downcast,  like 
a  man  just  out  from  a  long  sickness,  and  well  he 
might  look  thus.  Not  one  in  a  hundred  would  have 
persevered  and  endured  what  he  did  to  accomplish 
his  life-mission.  But  the  darkest  day  at  last  ends, 
and  by  the  time  Howe  could  recover  his  spirits  and 
look  about  him,  he  discovered  that  during  his  stay  in 
England  his  machine  had  become  famous,  though  its 
inventor  was  forgotten.  Several  parties  had  com- 
menced to  manufacture  them,  and  were  going  for- 
ward in  their  work  without  any  regard  for  the  inven- 
tor's rights.  Howe  saw  that  he  must  protect  his 
rights  in  the  courts,  and  immediately  commenced  suit 
against  the  infringers.  But  he  had  no  money  to 
carry  it  on.  He  must  get  back  his  pawned  letters- 
patent  from  England,  and  the  original  machine, 
which,  through  the  aid  of  Hon.  Anson  Burlingame, 
was  finally  accomplished.  He  then  tried  to  find 
some  one  who  would  buy  out  Fisher's  half  of  the 
right,  and  at  last  succeeded.  But  this  man,  whose 
name  was  Geo.  W.  Bliss,  was  so  faithless  in  regard 
to  the  undertaking,  that  he  would  not  furnish  any 
more  money  without  security,  and  if  Howe's  father 
had  not  mortgaged  his  farm  to  Bliss,  the  son  might 
have  been  cheated  out  of  his  rights  after  all. 


348 


ELIAS    HOWE. 


About  this  time,  a  man  whose  name  is  now  equally 
celebrated  in  sewing-machine  annals  with  that  of 
Howe  himself,  got  hold  of  a  machine,  saw  its  power, 
and  resolved  upon  an  attempt  to  improve  it.  This 
man  was  I.  M.  Singer.  After  completing  several  im- 
provements and  getting  them  patented,  he  went  to 
work  in  true  business-like  style,  advertised  his  ma- 
chines, and  soon  created  quite  a  demand  for  them. 
Howe  thereupon  informed  Singer  that  he  was  in- 
fringing upon  his  rights.  Singer  was  provoked  at 
Howe's  claim,  and  spent  years  trying  to  prove  before 
the  courts,  that  Howe  was  not  the  original  inventor. 
But  in  the  year  1854,  after  a  long  trial,  Judge 
Sprague  of  Massachusetts  decided  that  "  Howe's 
patent  was  valid,  and  Singer's  an  infringement." 
This  was  nine  years  after  the  completion  of  the  first 
machine. 

After  Bliss  died,  Howe  was  able  to  buy  out  his  half 
of  the  right,  and  thus  become  sole  owner  of  the  pat- 
ent. From  a  few  hundred  a  year,  Howe's  revenue 
rapidly  increased  until  it  went  beyond  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  and  he  received  in  all  from  the  sales 
of  the  machine  about  two  millions.  A  combination 
was  formed,  according  to  the  terms  of  which  Howe 
was  to  receive  five  dollars  for  every  machine  sold  in 
the  United  States,  and  one  dollar  for  every  machine 
imported.  This  agreement  continued  until  1860, 
when  Howe's  fee  was  reduced  from  five  dollars  to 
one,  but  even  at  this  rate  money  poured  in  upon  him 
in  sufficient  quantity  to  make  himself  and  all  his 
friends  comfortable  for  life.  Before  Howe  died,  he 
saw  the  complete  triumph  of  his  invention,  and  was 
permitted  to  rejoice  in  the  well-earned  reward  of  his 


W.    E.    GLADSTONE.  349 

persistent  toil.  Indeed,  the  prominent  lesson  of 
Howe's  life  cannot  be  better  expressed  than  in  the 
words  of  the  old  motto  :  "  Genius  is  but  another 
name  for  continued  hard  work." 

W.  E.  GLADSTONE. 

Passing  now  from  our  own  land  to  that  great 
English-speaking  nation  across  the  sea,  we  take  up  as 
an  example  of  excellence  one  of  the  noblest  and 
purest  characters  in  English  history,  William  Ewart 
Gladstone.  At  the  present  writing  (1881)  Mr. 
Gladstone  is  for  the  second  time  Premier  of  the 
United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  He 
has  been  in  public  life  almost  continually  since  the 
age  of  twenty-two,  when  he  took  his  seat  in  Parlia- 
ment for  the  first  time.  He  was  born  in  Liverpool, 
1809,  and  was  the  son  of  a  great  Liverpool  merchant 
who  was  raised  to  a  baronetcy  in  1846.  The  eldest 
son  of  the  merchant  took  the  father's  title  as  a  matter 
of  course,  leaving  the  statesman  to  be  known  by  the 
simple  designation  of  Hon.  or  Mr. 

Young  Gladstone  was  early  put  to  school  at  Eton 
and  Oxford,  where  he  displayed  an  ability  which  gave 
ample  assurance  of  a  distinguished  career.  He 
graduated  with  double  honors,  excelling  in  both  the 
classics  and  mathematics.  The  next  year  he  entered 
Parliament ;  two  years  later  he  took  a  cabinet  posi- 
tion under  Sir  Robert  Peel,  and  advanced  steadily 
from  one  post  to  another,  until  the  death  of  Lord 
Palmerston  in  1865,  when  he  became  leader  of  the 
Liberal  party  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  was 
made  Premier  three  years  later.  When  Gladstone  first 


350  W.    E?   GLADSTONE. 

entered  the  political  arena,  he  was  a  Tory  in  principle, 
and  was  looked  upon  as  the  rising  hope  of  that  party, 
but  the  rapid  growth  of  his  mind,  as  well  as  the  stern 
logic  of  events,  soon  took  him  out  of  the  ranks  of 
the  Conservatives,  and  placed  him  in  the  fore  front 
of  the  progressive  Liberals.  It  is  impossible  to  tie 
up  a  vigorous,  thinking  mind  to  the  obsolete  notions 
of  a  dead  past ;  it  will  assert  itself  and  reach  out 
after  new  light  and  new  truth, — and  such  was  the 
case  with  Gladstone. 

The  first  Gladstone  administration  remained  in 
power  about  five  years.  It  tried  to  bring  about  re- 
forms for  which  the  nation  was  not  prepared,  and  as 
a  consequence  it  failed  to  secure  the  popular  ap- 
proval. The  test  measure  on  which  the  ministry 
was  defeated,  was  known  as  the  Irish  University  Bill, 
the  main  object  of  which  was  the  establishment  of  a 
system  of  education  in  that  country  which  should  be 
acceptable  to  both  Protestants  and  Catholics,  but 
this  attempt  to  ride  two  horses  going  in  different  di- 
rections resulted,  as  all  such  attempts  will,  in  throw- 
ing the  rider  to  the  ground  between  them.  As 
Gladstone  stepped  down  and  out,  his  great  rival  and 
opponent,  Disraeli,  took  his  place  and  retained  it 
until  the  election  of  1880,  which  resulted  in  his 
overthrow,  and  the  reinstatement  of  the  Liberal  party 
in  power. 

As  a  party  leader,  Mr.  Gladstone  has  many  excel- 
lencies and  some  defects.  His  temper  is  a  little  hasty 
and  violent  at  times ;  he  does  not  make  allowance 
enough  for  the  foibles  and  weaknesses  of  lesser 
minds,  and  he  lacks  somewhat  the  flexibility  to  meet 
the  various  exigencies  of  a  great  political  contest ; 


W.    E.    GLADSTONE.  351 

but  his  power  to  interpret  the  will  of  the  nation,  and 
express  that  will  in  legislative  form,  and  especially 
his  power  to  inspire  a  hearty  enthusiasm  among  his 
personal  followers,  are  unequaled.  He  has  the  pas- 
sion, the  strong  feeling,  the  fluency  of  speech,  and 
the  simplicity  and  straightforwardness  of  action 
which  please  the  multitude,  and  command  their 
hearty  admiration,  and  his  name  is  a  tower  of  strength 
for  his  party.  His  soul,  when  engaged  on  any  sub- 
ject of  importance,  is  filled  with  an  earnestness 
which  is  almost  heroic,  and  he  sees  only  one  road  to 
the  end  at  which  he  aims, — the  shortest.  His  perse- 
verance in  any  work  which  he  has  undertaken,  in  the 
face  of  difficulties  which  would  overwhelm  most  men, 
is  entirely  remarkable.  As  a  minister  in  charge  of  a 
great  measure,  one  to  which  he  has  devoted  the 
whole  strength  of  his  wonderful  mind,  like  the  Irish 
Land  Bill  for  instance,  he  has  not  an  equal.  He 
then  shows  a  knowledge,  an  ability,  and  a  power  in 
handling  a  great  public  question,  a  grasp  at  once  of 
its  underlying  principles  and  its  smallest  details,  a 
readiness  to  comprehend  objections,  and  a  fertility  of 
resources  in  meeting  them,  which  few  Englishmen 
have  ever  surpassed. 

As  an  orator  and  debater  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, Mr.  Gladstone  has  had  very  few  superiors. 
Disraeli  possessed  a  more  brilliant  wit  and  greater 
powers  of  sarcasm,  but  had  not  that  power  of  elo- 
quence which  is  universally  conceded  to  his  antag- 
onist. In  fact,  Gladstone  is  never  seen  to  better  ad- 
vantage than  when  at  the  close  of  a  long  discussion, 
he  rises  to  reply  to  his  opponents.  Disraeli  always 
wrote  out  his  speeches  carefully  in  advance  of  their 


352  W.    K.    GLADSTONE. 

delivery,  but  Gladstone  rarely  writes  a  word.  "  The 
readiness  with  which  he  would  reply  to  a  speech  just 
delivered,  was  amazing ;  taking  up  one  after  another 
the  arguments  advanced,  he  would  examine  them 
with  as  much  fluency  and  precision  as  though  he  had 
spent  weeks  in  the  preparation  of  an  answer. 
Usually  inclined  to  be  somewhat  lengthy  and  prolix 
in  his  remarks,  at  such  times  his  sentences  would  be 
short  and  clear,  and  from  beginning  to  end  he  would 
use  hardly  an  unnecessary  word.  The  heat  and  ex- 
citement of  debate  would  make  his  pale  face  twitch, 
his  voice  quiver,  and  his  body  sway  from  side  to  side. 
The  storm  of  cheers  and  counter-cheers  around  him, 
which  always  rages  in  the  House  of  Commons  on 
such  an  occasion,  stops  not  the  torrent  of  his  argu- 
ment or  invective,  but  high  and  clear  above  the 
tumult,  his  clarion  voice  rings  out  like  a  silvery  trum- 
pet, sounding  through  the  din  of  a  well-fought  field. 
As  he  draws  near  the  close,  something  like  a  calm 
comes  over  the  scene,  and  men  on  both  sides  listen 
eagerly  and  anxiously  to  catch  every  word  of  the 
peroration." 

In  addressing  out-door  audiences,  many  of  whom 
are  hostile  to  his  principles  and  policy,  he  exhibits 
the  same  remarkable  power  of  command  which  dis- 
tinguishes his  Parliamentary  speeches. 

But  Gladstone  as  an  author  is  almost  as  well-known 
as  Gladstone  the  party  leader  and  statesman.  At 
the  early  age  of  twenty-eight  he  appeared  before  the 
public  in  a  book  on  the  relations  of  church  and  state, 
which  ran  through  three  editions,  and  which  had  the 
high  honor  of  an  elaborate  review  from  the  pen  of 
Macaulay  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  When  serving 


W.    E.    GLADSTONE.  353 

under  Sir  Robert  Peel,  he  wrote  several  political 
pamphlets,  one  of  which  passed  through  eleven 
editions  in  a  single  year,  and  was  translated  into  all  the 
principal  European  languages.  On  "  Homer  and 
Homeric  Studies/'  Mr.  Gladstone  Ips  long  been  one 
of  the  high  authorities  of  the  world.  No  modern 
writer  has  surpassed  him  in  the  masterly  delineation 
of  the  essential  characteristics  of  ancient  Greek  life. 
His  later  pamphlet  on  "The  Vatican"  also  had  an 
extraordinary  sale,  and  exerted  a  wide-spread  influ- 
ence over  current  and  contemporaneous  thought. 

In  conclusion,  Gladstone's  purity  of  character  and 
private  life  is  everywhere,  and  openly  admitted.  He 
has  a  great  and  noble  heart  beating  in  his  breast, 
which,  like  the  Ursa  Major  in  the  heavens,  remains 
constant  and  loyal  to  the  right  and  true.  No  one  of 
his  political  enemies  can  refer  to  any  stain  upon  his 
personal  manhood,  or  his  domestic  life.  In  the  vil- 
lage where  he  resides  when  not  in  London,  he  not 
infrequently  goes  into  the  humble  church,  and  pub- 
licly reads  the  lessons  from  the  prayer-book  for  him- 
self and  his  neighbors.  At  such  times  the  dignity 
and  nobility  of  his  character  shines  out  with  re- 
splendent power,  and  his  solemn  utterances  are  treas- 
ured up  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  as  though  com- 
ing from  an  accredited  ambassador  of  the  skies.  In 
personal  appearance,  Gladstone  strongly  resembles 
our  own  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.  There  is  a  blend- 
ing generosity  and  scorn  in  the  play  of  the  nos- 
trils, and  an  alternating  severity  and  sweetness  in  the 
expressive  mouth.  His  countenance  is  lined  and 
seamed  with  thought,  and  paled  by  years  of  toil. 
Take  him  for  all  in  all,  he  has  ever  justified  the  re- 


354 


JOHN    BRIGHT. 


mark  made  of  him  by  Chevalier  Bunsen  in  1839: 
"  Gladstone  is  the  first  man  in  England  as  to  intel- 
lectual power." 

JOHN  BRIGHT. 

Next  in  power  over  the  English  people,  stands  the 
great  Commoner  and  Parliamentary  orator,  John 
Bright.  Inferior  to  Gladstone  in  breadth  of  scholar- 
ship and  general  intellectual  culture,  there  is  yet  no 
man  who  stands  higher  in  the  estimation  of  the 
English  people  than  Bright.  Unlike  Gladstone, 
Bright  sprang  directly  from  the  ranks  of  the  people, 
and  made  himself  what  he  was,  through  the  force  of 
native  gifts,  and  steady,  intense  application  to  reading 
and  study.  Bright's  father  was  a  cotton-spinner  and 
manufacturer  in  the  town  of  Rochdale,  England. 
John  was  born  in  181 1,  and  enjoyed  only  an  ordinary 
school-training.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  was  placed 
in  his  father's  counting-house,  where  he  remained  for 
twelve  years,  wholly  absorbed  in  business  pursuits. 
In  two  years  after  his  marriage,  in  1839,  his  wife 
died,  leaving  him  alone  in  life  with  a  little  helpless 
child. 

Bright  might  have  remained  in  mercantile  life  per- 
manently, had  it  not  been  for  the  agitation  concern- 
ing the  famous  Corn  Laws,  which  about  this  time 
was  shaking  the  nation.  These  Corn  Laws  were 
very  old,  dating  back  as  far  as  1826.  They  had 
been  modified  repeatedly,  but  gradually  grew  more 
and  more  obnoxious  to  the  people,  until  at  length  a 
powerful  league  was  formed  to  work  for  their  repeal. 
The  laws  in  themselves  were  simply  statutory  pro- 


JOHN    BRIGHT.  355 

hibitions  against  the  exportation  and  importation  of 
all  kinds  of  grain,  except  under  certain  restrictions 
and  annoying  conditions.  The  result  was  to  keep 
the  price  of  bread  higher  than  it  would  have  been 
under  the  opposite  policy  of  free  trade.  One  of  the 
moving  spirits  in  this  agitation  was  Richard  Cobden, 
and  while  Bright,  then  a  young  man,  was  sorrowing 
over  his  domestic  loss,  Cobden  came  to  him,  and 
urged  him  to  join  in  the  struggle  for  free  trade  and 
cheaper  bread.  Bright  at  first  refused,  but  when 
Cobden  besought  him  to  do  so  for  the  sake  of  the 
English  poor,  Bright  consented,  and  together  they 
started  out  on  that  wonderful  crusade,  which  aroused 
the  nation,  converted  Sir  Robert  Peel,  the  Premier, 
and  secured  the  repeal  of  the  obnoxious  statutes. 
This  incident  determined  Bright's  career  for  life. 
When  the  people  saw  what  kind  of  a  man  he  was, 
and  what  wonderful  gifts  of  oratory  he  possessed, 
they  wanted  him  to  represent  them  in  Parliament, 
and  accordingly  elected  him  to  a  seat  in  1843.  And 
he  was  hardly  ever  out  of  Parliament  from  that  time 
forward.  Once  only  he  took  a  Cabinet  position  at 
the  request  of  Gladstone,  and  was  the  first  Quaker 
who  ever  held  such  a  position  in  England. 

If  any  one  had  entered  Parliament  during  the 
later  years  of  Mr.  Bright's  service,  he  would  at  once 
have  singled  out  a  stout,  portly  man,  with  smooth- 
shaven  face  and  white  hair,  broad  and  lofty  forehead, 
clear-cut  mouth  and  wonderfully  fine  eyes,  which 
seemed  capable  of  flashing  fire,  or  shedding  tears  at 
will,  and  would  have  inquired  who  he  was.  And 
every  English  looker-on  would  have  answered  him 
with  pride,  "That  is  John  Bright."  He  has  always 


356  PRINCE    BISMARCK. 

professed  a  warm  admiration  for  the  institutions  of 
the  United  States,  and  Americans  are  pleased  to  re- 
spond to  him. 

PRINCE  BISMARCK. 

Bismarck-Schoenhausen,  Prince  Carl  Otto,  Prus- 
sian Prime  Minister,  perhaps  at  this  moment  the 
most  prominent  man  in  Europe,  was  born  in  1814,  at 
Brandenburg,  of  an  old  family,  of  which  various  mem- 
bers have  gained  a  reputation,  both  as  soldiers  and 
statesmen,  and  received  his  University  education  at 
Gottingen,  Berlin,  and  Greifswald,  where  he  studied 
law.  About  1847,  he  began  to  attract  attention  as  an 
ultra  royalist,  and  an  advocate  of  the  extremest  absolu- 
tion. He  was  one  of  those  who  opposed  the  scheme 
of  a  German  Empire,  proposed  by  the  German  Parlia- 
ment of  1849.  His  diplomatic  career  commenced  in 
1851,  when  he  was  appointed  Chief-Secretary  of  the 
Prussian  Legation,  at  the  resuscitated  German  Diet 
at  Frankfurt.  Here  he  began  to  manifest  that  zeal 
for  the  interest  and  aggrandizement  of  Prussia,  which 
has  since  undeviatingly  guided  him,  often  regardless 
of  the  means.  In  the  Diet,  he  gave  open  expression 
to  the  long  felt  discontent  with  the  predominance  of 
Austria,  and  demanded  equal  rights  for  Prussia.  In 
St.  Petersburg,  whither  he  was  sent  in  1859,  ^e  'ls 
said  to  have  tried  to  bring  about  an  alliance  between 
France,  Prussia,  and  Russia,  but  without  success. 
By  this  time  he  had  acquired  the  special  regard  and 
confidence  of  the  King,  who  sent  him,  in  the  spring 
of  1862,  as  ambassador  to  Paris,  in  order  to  give 
him  an  insight  into  the  politics  of  the  Tuilleries,  be- 
fore taking  the  direction  of  affairs  at  home.  In 


PRINCE    BISMARCK.  357 

autumn,  when  the  King's  Government  could  not  ob- 
tain the  consent  of  the  lower  house  to  the  new  mili- 
tary organization,  he  was  recalled  to  take  the  portfolio 
of  the  Ministry  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  the   Presi- 
dency of  the  Cabinet.     Not  being  able  to  pass  the 
re-organization    bill,  and   the    budget,  he   closed  the 
Chambers,  October,  1862,  announcing  to  the  deputies 
that  the  King's  Government  would  be  obliged  to  do 
without   their   sanction.     Accordingly,  the  army  re- 
organization went  on  ;  and  the  next  four  sessions  of 
Parliament  were  closed  or  dissolved  in  the  same  way, 
without  the  Government  obtaining,  or  even  caring  to 
obtain,  the  sanction  of  the  House.     The  people  were 
now  looking  for  a  coup  d'etat,  and  the   Government 
for  a  revolution.     At   this   crisis,  the    death    of  the 
King  of  Denmark  opened  up  again  the  Slesvig-Hol- 
stein  question,  and  excited  a  fever  of  national  Ger- 
man feeling,  which   Bismarck  was  adroit  enough  to 
work,  so  as  to  aggrandize  Prussia  by  the  acquisition 
of  the  Duchies,  and  reconcile  his  opponents  to   his 
high-handed  policy,  by  being  able  to  point  to  the  suc- 
cess of    the  newly-modeled  army.     Throughout  the 
events  which  ended  in  the   humiliation    of   Austria, 
and  the  re-organization  of  Germany  under  the  lead- 
ership of  Prussia,  Bismarck  was  the  guiding  spirit ; 
and  such  is  the  magic  of  success,  that  from  being 
universally  disliked,  he  has  become  the  most  popular 
man  in  Germany.    What  is  perhaps  still  stranger,  the 
man   who,  of  all    others   living,  has   been   the    most 
strenuous  upholder  of  absolutism,  and  has  all  along 
manifested  the  strongest  contempt  for  public  opinion, 
in  May,   1867,   received  the  thanks  and  congratula- 
tions of  the  extreme  Democrats  of  Great  Britain,  for 


358 


ROBERT    EMMETT. 


giving  to  North  Germany  a  constitution  based  on 
universal  suffrage.  The  war  with  Austria,  for  which 
Bismarck  had  prepared  for  several  years,  was  fought 
against  the  King's  inclination,  yet  its  speedy  triumph 
made  his  Minister  more  indispensable  than  ever  to 
the  Sovereign.  In  1867  he  was  made  Chancellor  of 
the  North  German  Confederation  by  the  King  of 
Prussia.  From  1866  to  1870,  Bismarck  was  prepar- 
ing for  the  next  war,  which  he  foresaw  must  be  with 
France,  as  a  prelude  to  the  absorption  of  Germany 
under  the  haughty  crown  of  the  Brandenburgs. 
Having  succeeded  in  humbling  France,  and  uniting 
Germany  under  Emperor  William,  he  was  made 
Chancellor  of  the  German  Empire  in  1870,  the  title 
of  Prince  conferred  upon  him,  and  a  million  of 
thalers  ($750,000)  voted  him  by  the  Parliament.  His 
recent  administration  of  the  German  policy  has  been 
signalized  by  a  contest  with  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  in  which  the  expulsion  of  the  Jesuits  (July, 
1872)  and  the  carrying  out  of  the  new  ecclesiastical 
laws  have  been  the  most  prominent  events. 

Bismarck's  personal  appearance  is  that  of  a  man 
of  energy  ;  in  social  life,  .he  is  genial  and  witty  ;  in 
the  discharge  of  his  public  duty,  earnest  and  stern  ; 
he  possesses  a  great  deal  of  personal  courage,  and 
has  shown  himself  cool  and  fearless  in  battle. 

ROBERT  EMMETT. 


Robert  Emmett,  an  Irish  revolutionist,  born  in 
Dublin  in  1780,  was  hanged  in  the  same  city,  Sept.  20, 
1803.  He  gained  his  honors  at  Trinity  College,  from 
which  he  was  ultimately  expelled  for  avowing  himself 


ROBERT    EMMETT.  359 

a  Republican.  He  joined  the  association  of  United 
Irishmen,  whose  object  was  to  separate  Ireland  from 
Great  Britain,  and  to  establish  an  independent  re- 
public, and  he  was  implicated  in  the  rebellion  of  1 798. 
After  the  failure  of  this  attempt,  he  escaped  to 
France,  returned  secretly  to  Dublin  in  1802,  re-or- 
ganized the  malcontents,  established  various  depots 
of  powder  and  fire  arms  in  different  parts  of  the  city, 
and  fixed  upon  July  23,  1803,  as  the  time  to  seize 
the  castle  and  arsenals  of  Dublin.  On  the  evening 
of  that  day,  he  directed  the  distribution  of  pikes 
among  the  assembled  conspirators,  to  whom  he  deliv- 
ered  an  animated  harangue.  The  insurgent  band, 
marching  with  cheers  into  the  principal  streets,  and 
swelling  into  an  immense  and  fur'ous  mob,  assassi- 
nated Chief  Justice  Kilwarden,  who  was  passing  by  in 
his  carriage ;  but  they  hesitated  to  follow  their  en- 
thusiastic leader  to  the  castle,  and  dispersed  at  the 
first  volley  from  a  small  party  of  soldiers.  Emmett 
escaped  to  the  Wicklow  mountains.  After  the  failure 
of  the  first  blow  he  checked  the  other  movements 
which  had  been  projected,  husbanding  his  resources 
in  the  hope  of  soon  renewing  the  revolt.  He  might 
have  evaded  the  pursuit  of  the  government,  but  an 
attachment  for  Miss  Curran,  the  daughter  of  the 
celebrated  barrister,  induced  him  to  return  to  Dublin 
to  bid  her  farewell  before  leaving  the  country.  He 
was  tracked,  apprehended,  tried,  and  convicted  of 
high  treason.  He  defended  his  own  cause,  deliver- 
ing an  address  to  the  judge  and  jury  of  remarkable 
eloquence  and  pathos,  met  his  fate  with  courage,  and 
won  general  admiration  for  the  purity  and  loftiness 
of  his  motives. 


360 


SELF-TviADE    MEN. 


SELF-MADE  MEN. 


"  In  the  nation's  proudest  annals 
In  the  people's  warmest  hearts, 
Great  in  courage,  noble  in  truth 
Pure  as  the  sunlight  in  soul, 
Dead,  but  imperishable  ! " 


S  example  is  more  powerful  than  pr  *cept, 
and  sketches  of  self-made  men  are  sure  to 
leave  their  impress  upon  the  thought  pf 
the  reader,  we  propose  in  this  chapter  to 
furnish  a  few  facts  concerning  some  of 
the  great  and  self-made  men  whose  names 
adorn  the  historic  tablets  of  this  and  other  countries. 
In  America,  Franklin,  Rittenhouse,  Patrick  Henry, 
Clay,  Webster,  Jackson,  Douglas,  were  all  the  sons 
of  poor  parents.  Senator  Wilson,  who  was  for  a 
long  time  a  shoemaker,  said  in  one  of  his  addresses 
to  the  people  of  Great  Falls,  N.  H.:  "I  was  born 
here  in  your  county.  I  know  what  it  is  to  ask  a 
mother  for  bread  when  she  had  none  to  give.  I  left 
my  home  at  ten  years  of  age,  and  served  an  appren- 
ticeship of  eleven  years,  receiving  a  month's  school- 
ing each  year,  and,  at  the  end  of  eleven  years '  hard 
work,  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  six  sheep,  which  brought 
me  eighty-four  dollars.  A  dollar  would  cover  every 
penny  I  spent  from  the  time  I  was  born  until  I 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  361  . 

twenty-one  years  of  age.  I  know  what  it  is  to  travel 
weary  miles,  and  ask  my  fellow-men  to  give  me  leave 
to  toil.  I  remember  that  in  September,  1833,  I 
walked  into  your  village  from  my  native  town,  and 
went  through  your  mills  seeking  employment.  If 
anybody  had  offered  me  eight  or  nine  dollars  a 
month,  I  should  have  accepted  it  gladly.  I  went 
down  to  Salmon  Falls,  I  went  to  Dover,  I  went  to 
Newmarket,  and  tried  to  get  work,  without  success, 
and  I  returned  home  weary,  but  not  discouraged,  and 
put  my  pack  on  my  back,  and  walked  to  the  town 
where  I  now  live,  and  learned  a  mechanic's  trade. 
The  first  month  I  worked  after  I  was  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  I  went  into  the  woods,  drove  team,  cut 
mill-logs,  and  chopped  wood ;  and  though  I  rose  in 
the  morning  before  daylight,  and  worked  hard  until 
after  dark  at  night,  I  received  for  it  the  magnificent 
sum  of  two  dollars.  And  when  I  got  the  money, 
those  dollars  looked  to  me  as  large  as  the  moon  looks 
to-night." 

Thurlow  Weed,  for  a  long  time,  one  of  the  most 
influential  editors  and  politicians  of  the  country,  pub- 
lished recently  a  sketch  of  his  early  life,  in  which  he 
thus  speaks  of  his  efforts  at  self-culture  :  "  Many  a 
farmer's  son  has  found  the  best  opportunities  for 
mental  improvement  in  his  intervals  of  leisure  while 
tending  'sap  bush.'  Such,  at  any  rate,  was  my  own 
experience.  At  night  you  had  only  to  feed  the  ket- 
tles and  keep  up  the  fires,  the  sap  having  been 
gathered,  and  the  wood  cut  'before  dark.'  During 
the  day  we  would  always  lay  in  a  good  stock  of  '  fat 
pine '  by  the  light  of  which,  blazing  bright  before  the 
sugar-house,  in  the  posture  the  serpent  was  con- 


302  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

demned  to  assume  as  a  penalty  for  tempting  our 
great  first  grandmother,  I  passed  many  a  delightful 
night  in  reading.  I  remember  in  this  way  to  have 
read  a  history  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  to  have 
obtained  from  it  a  better  and  more  enduring  knowl- 
edge of  its  events  and  horrors,  and  of  the  actors  in 
that  great  national  tragedy,  than  I  have  received 
from  all  subsequent  reading.  I  remember  also  how 
happy  I  was  in  being  able  to  borrow  the  book  of  a 
Mr.  Keyes,  after  a  two-mile  tramp  through  the  snow, 
shoeless,  my  feet  swaddled  in  remnants  of  a  rag- 
carpet." 

The  most  successful  editors  in  this  country  have 
graduated  from  a  printing  office  rather  than  from  a 
college.  The  history  of  Horace  Greeley,  founder  of 
the  New  York  Tribune,  is  familiar  to  all.  He  began 
life  as  a  poor  boy  and  went  up,  step  by  step,  to  the 
position  of  editor-in-chief  of  a  powerful  metropolitan 
journal.  The  early  life  of  James  Brooks,  once  editor 
and  proprietor  of  the  New  York  Express,  is  another 
example  of  triumphant  courage  and  perseverance,  by 
which  many  a  poor  boy  has  found  his  way  to  the 
editorial  chair  or  to  a  seat  in  Congress.  Mr.  Brooks 
began  his  career  as  a  clerk  in  the  village  of  Andro- 
scoggin,  Me.,  where  he  was  to  remain  till  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  when,  by  contract,  he  was  to  receive  as 
capital  from  his  employer,  a  hogshead  of  New  Eng- 
land rum.  Unfortunately  for  his  employer  and  the 
hogshead  of  rum,  the  town  library  was  kept  in  the 
"  store,"  of  which  the  clerk  made  a  liberal  use.  His 
first  venture  in  business  enabled  him  to  save  money 
enough  to  pay  one  dollar  a  week  for  his  board,  while 
a  kind  gentleman  assisted  him  to  go  to  school.  As 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  363 

soon  as  he  knew  enough  to  teach  school,  he  began  as 
a  pedagogue  on  the  liberal  salary  of  ten  dollars  per 
month,  and  his  board.  In  a  year  he  was  rich  enough 
to  enter  Waterville  College.  Studying  and  teaching 
by  turns,  he  graduated  at  the  end  of  two  years,  carry- 
ing his  trunk  to  the  stage-office,  as  he  did  when  he 
entered,  to  save  a  few  of  his  hard-earned  and  scanty 
shillings.  From  this  hour  he  provided  a  home  for 
his  mother  and  her  two  younger  children,  his  father 
having  died  in  his  childhood. 

Mr.  Brooks  next  studied  law  with  the  noted  John 
Neal  of  Portland,  taught  school,  and  at  the  same 
time  wrote  a  series  of  anonymous  letters  for  the 
Portland  Advertiser,  a  daily  Whig  paper,  which  were 
so  popular  that  its  proprietor  made  him  an  offer  of 
five  hundred  dollars  per  year  to  write  constantly  for 
his  journal.  At  this  time,  though  only  twenty  years 
old,  he  had  become  one  of  the  most  popular  and 
eloquent  orators  of  his  State.  After  serving  in  the 
Legislature  of  Maine,  in  connection  with  his  editorial 
duties  on  the  Portland  Advertiser,  he  went  to  Wash- 
ington in  1832,  and  began  the  series  of  letters  which 
for  the  first  time  caught  up  and  reflected  in  clear  and 
brilliant  light,  the  multiform  life  of  the  American 
capital.  The  letters  became  immediately  popular, 
and  were  copied  by  the  press  from  Maine  to  Louisi- 
ana. One  of  the  most  signal  proofs  of  their  bril- 
liancy and  power  is  to  be  found  in  the  words  of 
Senator  Wilson  :  "  I  shall  never  forget  what  those 
letters  were  to  me.  The  first  I  had  ever  read,  they 
came  to  me  in  my  obscurity  and  poverty  as  the  reve- 
lation of  an  unknown  and  wonderful  life.  They 
made  me  want  to  go  to  Washington.  They  made 


SELF-MADE    MEN. 

me  feel  that  I  must  go  there  and  see  the  men  and 
witness  the  national  scenes  which  I  read  about  in 
those  letters." 

Subsequently,  Mr.  Brooks  wrote  a  series  of  letters 
from  the  Southern  States,  then  visited  Europe,  trav- 
eling on  foot  through  the  principal  countries,  and 
sending  home  letters  to  the  Portland  Advertiser,  then 
started  the  N.  Y.  Express,  carrying  it  alone  for  many 
years  under  a  heavy  load  of  debt  and  discourage- 
ment, acting  as  editor,  reporter,  and  even  type-setter, 
then  in  1849  went  to  Congress  as  a  representative 
from  New  York  City. 

Even  in  those  cases  where  men  have  begun  life 
under  more  favorable  circumstances,  they  have  not 
gone  through  the  battle  unscathed.  Many  bear  in 
their  faces  and  bodies  the  scars  and  signs  of  desper- 
ate conflict.  Such  was  the  case  with  Rufus  Choate, 
as  his  haggard  face  and  trembling,  nervous  frame  too 
plainly  showed  ;  and  such  is  the  case  with  another 
brilliant  lawyer,  Secretary  of  State  under  President 
Hayes.  He  has  been  recently  described  by  a  re- 
porter as  follows  :  "  In  that  pale  and  almost  ema- 
ciated face,  that  fragile  enwrapment  of  body  which 
seems  shaken  by  the  earnestness  of  its  own  talk,  is 
packed  that  library  of  knowledge  and  that  fiery  con- 
centration of  eloquent  speech,  which,  collectively, 
make  up  the  product  of  humanity  called  William  M. 
Evarts.  He  looks  like  a  man  whom  his  soul  had 
burned  up  with  its  own  intensity  till  all  that  was  in- 
flammable was  exhaled,  leaving  a  thin  body  and  a  face 
lit  up  with  great,  weird,  far-seeing  eyes." 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  365 

Commencing  with  industrial  life  in  England,  look 
at  the  career  of  Josiah  Wedgwood,  founder  of  the 
Staffordshire  Potteries  in  that  country,  and  the  father 
of  the  now  extensive  crockery  and  china-ware  trade. 
His  father,  a  poor  potter,  barely  able  to  make  a  living, 
died  when  Josiah  was  eleven  years  old,  and  the  boy 
was  put  to  work  as  a  thrower  at  his  elder  brother's 
wheel.  The  boy  never  received  any  school  educa- 
tion worthy  of  the  name,  and  all  the  culture  which 
he  afterward  received,  he  obtained  for  himself. 
About  the  time  when  the  boy  began  to  work  at  the 
potter's  wheel,  the  manufacture  of  earthenware  could 
scarcely  be  said  to  exist  in  England.  What  was  pro- 
duced was  altogether  unequal  to  the  supply  of  our 
domestic  wants,  and  large  quantities  of  the  com- 
moner sort  of  ware  were  imported  from  abroad, — 
principally  from  Delft,  in  Holland,  whence  it  was 
usually  known  by  the  name  of  "  Delft  ware."  Por- 
celain for  the  rich  was  chiefly  imported  from  China, 
and  sold  at  a  very  high  price.  No  porcelain  capable 
of  resisting  a  scratch  with  a  hard  point  had  as  yet 
been  made  in  that  country.  The  articles  of  earthen- 
ware produced  in  Staffordshire  were  of  the  coarsest 
quality,  and  were  for  the  most  part  hawked  about  by 
the  workmen  themselves  and  their  families,  or  by 
peddlers,  who  carried  their  stocks  upon  their  backs. 

Wrhile  working  with  his  brother  as  a  thrower, 
Wedgwood  caught  the  small-pox,  then  a  most  malig- 
nant disease ;  he  was  thrown  into  ill-health,  and  the 
remains  of  the  disease  seem  to  have  settled  in  his  left 
leg,  so  that  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  having  it 
amputated,  which  compelled  him  to  relinquish  the 
potter's  wheel.  Some  time  after  this  we  find  him  at 


366  SELF-MADE    MEN0 

Stoke,  in  partnership  with  a  man  named  Harrison,  as 
poor  as  himself, — in  fact,  both  were  as  yet  but  in  the 
condition  of  common  workmen.  Wedgwood's  taste 
for  ornamental  pottery,  however,  began  to  show  itself ; 
and  leaving  Harrison,  we  then  find  him  joined  to  an- 
other workman  named  Whieldon,  making  earthen- 
ware knife-handles  in  imitation  of  agate  and  tortoise- 
shell,  melon  table-plates,  green  pickle-leaves,  and  such 
like  articles.  Whieldon  being  unwilling  to  pursue 
this  fanciful  branch  of  trade,  Wedgwood  left  him,  re- 
turned to  Burslem  where  he  was  brought  up,  and  set 
up  for  himself  in  a  small  thatched  house. 

He  was  a  close  inquirer,  an  accurate  observer,  and 
among  other  facts  which  came  under  his  notice  was 
this,  that  earth  containing  silica  became  white  after 
exposure  to  the  heat  of  a  furnace.  This  led  him  to 
mix  silica  with  the  red  powder  of  the  potteries,  and 
to  the  discovery  that  both  substances  became  white 
when  calcined.  He  had  then  only  to  glaze  the  sur- 
face of  this  ware  to  obtain  a  most  important  article 
of  commerce.  Wedgwood  now  took  new  premises 
and  began  to  manufacture  white  stone-ware  on  a 
large  scale,  and  afterward  cream-colored  ware,  which 
acquired  great  celebrity.  The  improvement  of  his 
art  now  became  a  passion  with  him,  and  he  worked 
at  it  with  all  his  might.  He  devoted  himself  to 
chemical  investigation  and  spared  neither  labor  nor 
expense  in  furthering  his  plans  and  designs. 

He  was  cheerfully  assisted  in  his  objects  by  per- 
sons of  rank  and  influence ;  for,  working  in  the 
truest  spirit,  he  readily  commanded  the  help  and  en- 
couragement of  all  true  workers.  He  made  for 
Queen  Charlotte  the  first  royal  table-service  of  Eng- 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  367 

lish  manufacture,  of  the  kind  afterward  called 
"  Queen'sware,"  and  was  forthwith  appointed  her 
Royal  Potter,  a  title  which  Wedgwood  more  prized 
than  if  he  had  been  created  a  baron.  Valuable  sets 
of  porcelain  were  intrusted  to  him  for  imitation, 
in  which  he  succeeded  to  admiration.  Sir  William 
Hamilton  lent  him  specimens  of  ancient  art,  from 
Herculaneum,  of  which  Wedgwood's  ingenious  work- 
men produced  the  most  accurate  and  beautiful  copies. 
The  Duchess  of  Portland  outbid  him  for  the  Bar- 
berini  Vase,  when  that  article  was  offered  for  sale ; 
he  bid  as  high  as  seventeen  hundred  guineas  for  it, 
but  Her  Grace  secured  it  for  the  sum  of  eighteen  hun- 
dred guineas  ;  but  when  she  learned  Wedgwood's 
object,  she  at  once  lent  him  the  vase  to  copy.  He 
produced  fifty  copies  at  a  cost  of  about  ,£2,500,  and 
his  expenses  were  not  covered  by  their  sale  ;  but  he 
gained  his  object,  which  was  to  show  that  whatever 
had  been  done,  English  skill  and  energy  could  and 
would  accomplish, 

Wedgwood  called  to  his  aid  the  crucible  of  the 
chemist,  the  knowledge  of  the  antiquary,  and  the 
skill  of  the  artist.  He  found  out  Flaxman  when  a 
youth,  and  while  he  liberally  nurtured  his  genius, 
drew  from  him  a  large  number  of  beautiful  designs 
for  his  pottery  and  porcelain ;  converting  them  by 
his  manufacture  into  objects  of  taste  and  excellence, 
and  thus  making  them  instrumental  in  the  diffusion 
of  classical  art  among  the  people.  By  careful  experi- 
ment and  study  he  was  even  enabled  to  re-discover 
the  art  of  painting  on  porcelain  or  earthenware  vases 
and  similar  articles, — an  art  practiced  by  the  ancient 
Etruscans,  but  which  had  been  lost  since  the  time  of 


368  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

Pliny.  He  distinguished  himself  by  his  own  contri- 
butions to  science,  and  his  name  is  still  identified 
with  the  pyrometer  which  he  invented. 

He  was  also  an  indefatigable  supporter  of  all 
measures  of  public  utility ;  and  the  construction  of 
the  Trent  and  Mersey  Canal,  which  completed  the 
navigable  communication  between  the  eastern  and 
western  sides  of  the  island,  was  mainly  due  to  his 
public-spirited  exertions  allied  to  the  engineering  skill 
of  Brindley.  The  road  accommodation  of  the  dis- 
trict being  of  an  execrable  character,  he  planned  and 
executed  a  turnpike  road  through  the  Potteries,  ten 
miles  in  length.  The  reputation  he  achieved  was 
such  that  his  works  at  Burslem,  and  subsequently 
those  at  Etruria,  which  he  founded  and  built,  became 
a  point  of  attraction  to  distinguished  visitors  from  all 
parts  of  Europe. 

The  result  of  Wedgwood's  labors  was,  that  the 
manufacture  of  pottery,  which  he  found  in  the  very 
lowest  condition,  became  one  of  the  staples  of  Eng- 
land ;  and  instead  of  importing  what  they  needed  for 
home  use  from  abroad,  they  became  large  exporters 
to  other  countries,  supplying  them  with  earthenware 
even  in  the  face  of  enormous  prohibitory  duties  on 
articles  of  British  produce.  Wedgwood  gave 
evidence  as  to  his  manufactures  before  Parliament  in 
1785,  only  some  thirty  years  after  he  had  begun  his 
operations ;  from  which  it  appeared,  that  from  pro- 
viding only  usual  employment  to  a  small  number  of 
inefficient  and  badly  remunerated  workmen,  there 
were  then  about  20,000  persons  deriving  their  bread 
directly  from  the  manufacture  of  earthenware,  with- 
out taking  into  account  the  increased  numbers  to 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  369 

which  it  gave  employment  in  coal-mines,  and  in  the 
carrying  trade  by  land  and  sea,  and  the  stimulus 
which  it  gave  to  employment  in  various  ways  and 
parts  of  the  country. 

The  man  who  took  up  this  important  work  where 
Wedgwood  left  it,  and  carried  it  forward  to  still 
greater  triumphs,  was  Herbert  Minton,  who  was 
chiefly  distinguished  for  the  inexhaustible  activity 
and  ceaseless  energy  which  he  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  creation  of  a  colossal  business,  which  gave  em- 
ployment to  some  1,500  skilled  artisans.  Minton  had 
a  clear  head,  strong  body,  rare  powers  of  observation, 
and  great  endurance,  besides  a  pride  in,  and  a  love 
for,  his  calling.  Like  Wedgwood,  he  employed  first- 
rate  artists,  painters  in  enamel,  sculptors,  designers 
of  flowers  and  figures, — and  spared  neither  pains  nor 
expense  in  securing  the  best  workmen.  The  talents 
of  the  men  employed  by  him  were  carefully  discrim- 
inated and  duly  recognized,  and  merit  felt  stimulated 
by  the  hope  of  promotion  and  reward. 

The  result  soon  was  that  articles  of  taste,  which 
had  formerly  been  of  altogether  exceptional  produc- 
tion, became  objects  of  ordinary  supply  and  demand  ; 
and  objects  of  artistic  beauty,  the  designs  of  which 
were  supplied  by  the  best  artists,  were  placed  within 
reach  of  persons  of  moderate  means.  The  quality 
of  the  articles  manufactured  at  his  works  became  so 
proverbial,  that  one  day  when  Pickford's  carrier 
rudely  delivered  a  package  from  his  cart  at  the  hall- 
door  of  an  exhibition  of  ceramic  manufactures,  and 
the  officer  in  waiting  expostulated  with  the  man  on 
his  incautious  handling  of  the  package,  his  ready  an- 
24 


370 


SELF-MADE    MEN. 


swer  was :  "  Oh,  never  fear,  sir  •  it's  Minton's,  it 
won't  break." 

It  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that  Mr.  Minton,  by 
his  unaided  energy  and  enterprise,  and  at  his  own 
risk,  was  enabled  successfully  to  compete  with  the 
Sevres  manufactures  of  France,  which  are  produced 
by  the  co-operation  of  a  large  number  of  talented 
men,  and  the  assistance  of  almost  unlimited  state 
funds.  In  many  of  the  articles  exhibited  at  Paris,  in 
1851,  Mr.  Minton's  even  excelled  those  of  similar 
character  produced  at  the  Imperial  manufactory.  In 
hard  porcelain,  also,  he  surpassed  the  best  specimens 
of  Meissen  and  Berlin  ware  ;  in  Parian,  he  was  only 
approached  by  Copelancl ;  while  in  the  manufacture 
of  encaustic  tiles  he  stood  without  a  rival.  In  per- 
fecting these  several  branches,  Mr.  Minton  had  many 
difficulties  to  encounter  and  failures  to  surmount,  but 
with  true  energy  and  determination  to  succeed,  he 
conquered  them  all,  and  at  length  left  the  best  of 
ancient  tiles  behind. 

Mention  was  made,  in  the  account  just  given,  of 
the  artist,  John  Flaxman,  whose  career  is  fully  as 
noteworthy  as  those  of  Wedgwood  and  Minton  who 
employed  him.  He  was  the  son  of  an  humble  seller 
of  plaster-casts  in  New  Street,  Covent  Garden ;  and 
when  a  child,  he  was  so  constant  an  invalid  that  it 
was  his  custom  to  sit  behind  the  shop  counter 
propped  by  pillows,  amusing  himself  with  drawing 
and  reading.  A  benevolent  clergyman,  named 
Mathews,  one  day  calling  at  the  shop,  found  the  boy 
trying  to  read  a  book,  and  on  inquiring  what  it  was, 
found  it  was  a  Cornelius  Nepos,  which  his  father 
had  picked  up  for  a  few  pence  at  a  bookstall.  The 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  371 

gentleman,  after  some  conversation  with  the  boy, 
said  that  was  not  the  proper  book  for  him  to  read, 
but  that  he  would  bring  him  a  right  one  on  the  mor- 
row ;  and  the  kind  man  was  as  good  as  his  word. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Mathews  used  afterward  to  say. 
that  from  that  casual  interview  with  the  crippled  little 
invalid  behind  the  plaster-cast  seller's  shop  counter, 
began  an  acquaintance  which  ripened  into  one  of  the 
best  friendships  of  his  life.  He  brought  several 
books  to  the  boy,  among  which  were  Homer  and 
"  Don  Quixote,"  in  both  of  which  Flaxman  then  and 
ever  after  took  immense  delight.  His  mind  was 
soon  full  of  the  heroism  which  breathed  through  the 
pages  of  the  former  work,  and,  with  the  stucco 
Ajaxes  and  Achilli  about  him,  looming  along  the 
shop  shelves,  the  ambition  thus  early  took  possession 
of  him,  that  he  too  would  design  and  embody  in 
poetic  forms  those  majestic  heroes.  His  black  chalk 
was  at  once  in  his  hand,  and  the  enthusiastic  boy 
labored  in  a  divine  despair  to  body  forth  in  visible 
shapes,  the  actions  of  the  Greeks  and  Trojans. 

Like  all  youthful  .  efforts,  his  first  designs  were 
crude.  The  proud  father  one  day  showed  them  to 
Roubilliac,  the  sculptor,  who  turned  from  them  with  a 
contemptuous  "  Pshaw!  "  But  the  boy  had  the  right 
stuff  in  him  ;  he  had  industry  and  patience ;  and  he 
continued  to  labor  incessantly  at  his  books  and  draw- 
ings. It  was  long  before  he  could  walk,  and  only 
learned  to  do  so  at  length  by  hobbling  along  on 
crutches.  When  he  was  able  to  throw  these  away, 
Mr.  Mathews  invited  him  to  his  house  and  helped 
him  in  his  self-culture,  giving  him  lessons  in  Greek 
and  Latin.  When  under  Mrs.  Mathews  he  also  at- 


372  SELF-MADE   MEN. 

tempted  with  his  bit  of  charcoal  to  embody  in  out- 
line such  passages  as  struck  his  fancy.  But  when  one 
of  these  was  shown  to  Mortimer,  the  artist,  he  ex- 
claimed with  affected  surprise,  "  Is  it  an  oyster?" 

But  after  much  study  his  drawing  improved  so 
much  that  Mrs.  Mathews  obtained  for  him  a  commis- 
sion from  a  lady  to  draw  six  original  sketches  in  black 
chalk  from  subjects  in  Homer.  This  was  his  first 
commission,  and  a  great  event  in  his  life,  for  he 
executed  the  order,  was  well-praised  and  well-paid  for 
his  work,  and  soon  afterward  entered  the  Royal 
Academy.  In  his  fifteenth  year  he  gained  the  silver 
prize,  and  next  tried  for  the  gold  one,  but  lost  it. 
This  failure  on  the  part  of  the  youth  was  really  of 
service  to  him  ;  for  defeats  do  not  long  cast  down  the 
resolute-hearted,  but  only  serve  to  call  forth  their 
real  powers.  "  Give  me  time,"  said  he  to  his  father, 
"and  I  will  yet  produce  works  that  the  Academy  will 
be  proud  to  recognize." 

He  redoubled  his  efforts,  spared  no  pains,  designed 
and  modeled  incessantly,  and  consequently  made 
steady  if  not  rapid  progress.  But  meanwhile,  poverty 
threatened  his  father's  household  ;  the  plaster-cast 
trade  yielded  a  very  bare  living ;  and  young  Flax- 
man,  with  resolute  self-denial,  curtailed  his  hours  of 
study,  and  devoted  himself  to  helping  his  father  in 
the  humble  details  of  his  business.  He  laid  aside 
his  Homer  to  take  up  his  plaster-trowel.  He  was 
willing  to  work  in  the  humblest  department  of  the 
trade  so  that  his  father's  family  might  be  supported, 
and  the  wolf  kept  from  the  door.  To  this  drudgery 
of  his  art  he  served  a  long  apprenticeship  ;  but  it  did 
him  good.  It  familiarized  him  with  steady  work,  and 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  373 

cultivated  in  him  the  spirit  of  patience.  The  disci- 
pline may  have  been  rough,  but  it  was  wholesome. 

Happily,  young  Flaxman's  skill  in  designing  had 
reached  the  knowledge  of  Mr.  Wedgwood,  who 
sought  him  out  for  the  purpose  of  employing  him  in 
designing  improved  patterns  of  china  and  earthen- 
ware to  be  produced  at  his  manufactory.  It  may 
seem  an  humble  department  of  art  for  Flaxman  to 
have  labored  in  ;  but  it  really  was  not  so.  Articles 
which  are  in  daily  use  among  the  people,  and  are  be- 
fore their  eyes  at  every  meal,  may  be  made  the 
vehicles  of  art-education  and  minister  to  their  highest 
culture.  Before  Wedgwood's  time,  the  designs  upon 
china  and  stone-ware  were  hideous,  so,  finding  out 
Flaxman,  he  said  to  him  :  "  Well,  my  lad,  I  have 
heard  that  you  are  a  good  draughtsman  and  clever 
designer.  I'm  a  manufacturer  of  pots, — name,  Wedg- 
wood. Now,  I  want  you  to  design  some  models  for 
me, — nothing  fantastic,  but  simple,  tasteful,  and  cor- 
rect in  drawing.  I'll  pay  you  well.  You  don't  think 
the  work  beneath  you?"  ''By  no  means,  sir,"  re- 
plied Flaxman,  "indeed,  the  work  is  quite  to  my 
taste.  Give  me  a  few  days, — call  again,  and  you  will 
see  what  I  can  do."  "  That's  right, — work  away. 
Mind,  I  am  in  want  of  them  now.  They  are  for  pots 
of  all  kinds, — teapots,  jugs,  teacups  and  saucers. 
But  especially,  I  want  designs  for  a  table-service. 
Begin  with  that.  I  mean  to  supply  one  for  the  royal 
table.  Now,  think  of  that,  young  man.  What  you 
design  is  meant  for  the  eyes  of  royalty  ! "  "I  will  do 
my  best,  sir,  I  assure  you."  And  the  kind  gentle- 
man bustled  out  of  the  shop  as  he  had  come  in. 

Flaxman    did   his   best.      By   the   time   that    Mr. 


374 


SEL^-MADE  MEN. 


Wedgwood  next  called  upon  him,  he  had  a  numerous 
series  of  models  prepared  for  various  pieces  of  earth- 
enware. They  consisted  chiefly  of  small  groups  in 
very  low  relief,— the  subjects  taken  from  ancient 
verse  and  history.  Many  of  them  are  still  in  exist- 
ence, and  some  are  equal  in  beauty  and  simplicity  to 
his  after-designs  for  marble.  The  celebrated  Etrus- 
can vases,  many  of  which  were  to  be  found  in  public 
museums,  and  in  the  cabinets  of  the  curious,  fur- 
nished him  with  the  best  examples  of  form,  and  these 
he  embellished  with  his  own  elegant  devices.  "  Stuart's 
Athens,"  then  recently  published,  also  furnished  him 
with  specimens  of  the  purest-shaped  Greek  utensils, 
and  he  adopted  the  best  of  them,  and  worked  them 
up  into  wondrous  shapes  of  elegance  and  beauty. 

Flaxman  continued  at  his  work  for  several  years, 
living  a  quiet  and  secluded  life,  working  during  the 
day,  and  reading  in  the  evenings.  At  length  in  1782, 
when  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  he  left  his  father's 
house,  hired  one  of  his  own,  and  married  a  cheery, 
bright-souled,  noble  woman  by  the  name  of  Ann 
Denman.  Like  him,  she  had  a  taste  for  poetry  and 
art,  and  was,  besides,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  her 
husband's  genius.  Yet  when  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,— 
himself  a  bachelor, — met  Flaxman  shortly  after  his 
marriage,  he  said  to  him,  "  So,  Flaxman,  I  am  told 
you  are  married  ;  if  so,  sir,  I  declare  you  are  ruined 
for  an  artist."  Flaxman  went  straight  home,  sat 
down  beside  his  wife,  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  said, 
"  Ann,  I  am  ruined  for  an  artist."  "  How  so,  John  ? 
How  has  it  happened  ?  and  who  has  done  it  ?  "  "  It 
happened,"  he  replied,  "in  the  church,  and  Ann 
D«nman  has  done  it." 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  375 

He  then  told  her  of  Sir  Joshua's  remark, — whose 
opinion  was  well  known,  and  had  often  been  ex- 
pressed, that  if  students  would  excel,  they  must 
bring  the  whole  powers  of  their  mind  to  bear  upon 
their  art,  from  the  moment  they  rise  until  they  go  to 
bed  ;  and  also,  that  no  man  could  be  a  great  artist 
unless  he  studied  the  grand  works  of  Raphael, 
Michael  Angelo,  and  others,  at  Rome  and  Florence. 
"  And  I,"  said  Flaxman,  drawing  up  his  little  figure 
to  its  full  height,  "  I  would  be  a  great  artist."  And 
a  great  artist  you  shall  be,"  said  his  wife,  "and  visit 
Rome  too,  if  that  be  really  necessary  to  make  you 
great."  "  But  how?"  asked  Flaxman.  "  Work  and 
economize"  rejoined  the  brave  wife  ;  "  I  will  never 
have  it  said  that  Ann  Denman  ruined  John  Flaxman 
for  an  artist."  And  so  it  was  determined  by  the  pair 
that  the  journey  to  Rome  should  be  made  when 
their  means  would  admit.  "  I  will  go  to  Rome," 
said  Flaxman,  "  and  show  the  President  that  wed- 
lock is  for  a  man's  good  rather  than  his  harm  ;  and 
you,  Ann,  shall  accompany  me." 

Patiently  and  happily  this  affectionate  couple 
plodded  on  during  five  years  in  that  humble  little 
home  in  Wardour  street ;  always  with  the  long 
journey  to  Rome  before  them.  It  was  never  lost 
sight  of  for  a  moment,  and  not  a  penny  was  uselessly 
spent  that  could  be  saved  toward  the  necessary  ex- 
penses. They  said  no  word  to  any  one  about  their 
project,  solicited  no  aid  from  the  Academy,  but 
trusted  to  their  own  patient  labor  and  love  to  pursue 
and  achieve  their  object.  By  working  for  Wedg- 
wood, who  was  a  good  paymaster,  and  saving  dili- 
gently, Flaxman  and  wife  at  length  set  out  for  Rome. 


376 


SELF-MADE  MEN. 


Arrived  there,  he  set  himself  at  work  and  study,  and 
after  a  while  English  visitors  sought  his  studio,  and 
gave  him  commissions  at  fifteen  shillings  apiece. 
He  then  prepared  to  return  to  England,  his  taste  im- 
proved and  cultivated  by  careful  study  ;  but  before 
he  left  Italy,  the  Academies  of  Florence  and  Carrara 
recognized  his  merits  by  electing  him  a  member. 

His  fame  had  preceded  him  to  England,  and  he 
soon  found  abundant  lucrative  employment.  While 
at  Rome,  he  had  been  commissioned  to  execute  his 
famous  monument  in  memory  of  Lord  Mansfield, 
and  it  was  erected  in  the  north  transept  of  West- 
minster Abbey  shortly  after  his  return.  It  stands 
there  in  majestic  grandeur,  a  monument  to  the  genius 
of  Flaxman  himself, — calm,  simple,  and  severe.  No 
wonder  that  Banks,  the  sculptor,  then  in  the  heyday 
of  his  fame,  exclaimed  when  he  saw  it :  "  This  little 
man  cuts  us  all  out  ! " 

When  the  big  wigs  of  the  Royal  Academy  heard  of 
Flaxman's  return,  and  especially  when  they  had  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  and  admiring  his  noble  por- 
trait-statue of  Mansfield,  they  were  eager  to  have 
him  enrolled  among  their  number.  The  Royal 
Academy  always  had  the  art  of  running  to  the  help 
of  the  strong ;  and  when  an  artist  proved  that  he 
could  achieve  a  reputation  without  the  Academy, 
then  the  Academy  was  most  willing  to  "  patronize  " 
him.  He  allowed  his  name  to  be  proposed  in  the 
candidates'  list  of  associates,  and  was  immediately 
elected.  His  progress  was  now  rapid,  and  he  was 
constantly  employed.  Perseverance  and  study,  which 
had  matured  his  genius,  had  made  him  great,  and  he 
went  on  from  triumph  to  triumph. 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  377 

But  he  appeared  in  yet  a  new  character.  The 
little  boy  who  had  begun  his  studies  behind  the  poor 
plaster-cast  seller's  shop-counter  in  New  Street, 
Covent  Garden,  was  now  a  man  of  high  intellect 
and  recognized  supremacy  in  art,  to  instruct  aspiring 
students,  in  the  character  of  Professor  of  Sculpture 
in  the  Royal  Academy.  And  no  man  better  deserved 
to  fill  that  distinguished  office,  for  no  man  was  better 
able  to  instruct  others,  than  he  who  had  met  and 
conquered  his  difficulties  alone.  Flaxman's  monu- 
ments are  known  all  over  England,  and  their  mute 
poetry  beautifies  many  cathedrals,  as  well  as  rural 
churches.  Their  tenderness  and  grace,  the  soul  and 
meaning  which  Flaxman  put  into  them,  has  never 
been  surpassed.  The  historical  monuments  to  Rey- 
nolds and  Nelson  in  St.  Paul's  cathedral,  are  from 
his  hand,  and  so  were  the  rapid  sketches  illustrative 
of  the  Lord's  Prayer  published  in  lithograph  some 
years  since.  After  a  long,  peaceful,  and  happy  life, 
Flaxman  lost  his  affectionate  wife  Ann,  but  survived 
her  several  years,  and  continued  to  work,  executing  as 
his  latest  pieces,  the  celebrated  "Shield  of  Achilles," 
and  the  "  Archangel  Michael  Vanquishing  Satan." 

It  is  sometimes  thought  by  those  who  have  had  no 
opportunity  to  learn  the  facts,  that  the  titled  aris- 
tocracy of  England,  those  distinguished  persons  who 
are  called  the  "  Peers  of  the  Realm,"  lords,  dukes, 
earls,  etc.,  are  descendants  of  families  who  once 
owned  the  greater  part  of  the  island,  and  who  won 
distinction  in  earlier  times.  And  in  some  instances 
this  is  true  ;  but  in  many  cases  the  English  Peerage 
has  been  recruited  from  the  lower  and  humbler  ranks, 
and  the  houses  are  of  modern  origin. 


378  SELf-MADE  MEN. 

It  appears  that  these  titles  are  open  to  commoners 
in  England,  somewhat  as  Senatorships  are  open  to 
the  poorest  and  humblest  in  this  country  ;  about  the 
only  difference  between  the  two,  being  that  in  Eng- 
land, a  title  once  bestowed,  remains  with  the  family 
and  is  inherited,  whereas  in  this  country  it  expires 
practically  at  the  end  of  the  term  of  service,  and  ac- 
tually at  death.  Here,  every  son  must  win  the  spurs 
of  knighthood  for  himself,  if  he  wishes  to  wear 
them,  while  across  the  sea,  when  once  earned,  they 
are  handed  down  from  father  to  son,  without  any 
effort  on  the  son's  part.  The  civil  wars  and  rebel- 
lions ruined  the  old  nobility,  and  dispersed  their 
families,  while  the  ranks  of  the  modern  peerage  have 
been  taken  largely  from  honest  industry,  and  from  the 
professions. 

Thus  the  earldom  of  Cornwallis  was  founded  by 
Thomas  Cornwallis,  the  Cheapside  merchant ;  that 
of  Essex  by  William  Capel,  the  draper  ;  and  that  of 
Craven  by  William  Craven,  the  merchant  tailor. 
The  modern  Earl  of  Warwick  is  not  descended  from 
"  the  King-maker,"  but  from  William  Greville,  the 
wool-stapler  ;  while  the  modern  dukes  of  Northumber- 
land find  their  head,  not  in  the  Percys,  but  in  Hugh 
Smithson,  a  respectable  London  apothecary.  The 
founders  of  the  families  of  Dartmouth,  Radnor, 
Ducie,  and  Pomfret,  were  respectively  a  skinner,  a 
silk  manufacturer,  a  merchant  tailor,  and  a  Calais 
merchant ;  while  the  founders  of  the  peerages  of 
Tankerville,  Dormer  and  Coventry,  were  dry-goods 
men. 

The  ancestors  of  Earl  Romney,  and  Lords  Dudley 
and  Ward,  were  goldsmiths  and  jewelers  ;  and  Lord 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  379 

Dacres  was  a  banker  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  as 
Lord  Overstone  is  in  that  of  Queen  Victoria.  Ed- 
ward Osborne,  the  founder  of  the  dukedom  of  Leeds, 
was  apprenticed  to  William  Hewet,  a  rich  cloth- 
worker  on  London  Bridge,  whose  only  daughter  he 
courageously  rescued  from  drowning  by  leaping  into 
the  Thames  after  her,  and  eventually  married. 
Among  other  peerages  founded  by  trade,  are  those 
of  Fitzwilliam,  Leigh,  Petre,  Cowper,  Darnley,  Hill 
and  Carrington. 

Not  to  mention  the  older  feudal  lords,  whose  tenure 
depended  upon  military  service,  and  who  so  often  led 
the  van  of  the  English  armies  in  great  national  en- 
counters, we  may  point  to  Nelson,  St.  Vincent,  and 
Lyons, — to  Wellington,  Hill,  Hardinge,  Clyde,  and 
many  more  in  recent  times,  who  have  nobly  earned 
their  rank  by  their  distinguished  services.  But  plod- 
ding industry  has  far  oftener  worked  its  way  to  the 
peerage  by  the  honorable  pursuit  of  the  legal  profes- 
sion, than  by  any  other.  No  fewer  than  seventy 
British  peerages,  including  two  dukedoms,  have  been 
founded  by  successful  lawyers.  Mansfield  and  Erskine 
were,  it  is  true,  of  noble  families  ;  but  the  latter  used 
to  thank  God  that  out  of  his  own  family  he  did  not 
know  a  lord.  Mansfield  owed  nothing  to  his  noble 
relations,  who  were  poor  and  uninfluential.  His  success 
was  the  legitimate  and  logical  result  of  the  means 
which  he  sedulously  employed  to  secure  it.  When  a 
boy,  he  rode  up  from  Scotland  to  London  on  a  pony 
—taking  two  months  to  make  the  journey.  After  a 
course  of  school  and  college,  he  entered  upon  the 
profession  of  the  law,  and  he  closed  a  career  of 
patient  and  ceaseless  labor  as  Lord  Chief  Justice  of 


380  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

England,  the  functions  of  which  office  he  is  admitted 
to  have  performed  with  unsurpassed  ability,  justice 
and  honor. 

The  others  were  for  the  most  part,  the  sons  of  at- 
torneys, grocers,  clergymen,  merchants,  and  hard- 
working members  of  the  middle  class.  Out  of  this 
profession  have  sprung  the  peerages  of  Howard 
and  Cavendish,  the  first  peers  of  both  families 
having  been  judges ;  those  of  Aylesford,  Ellenbor- 
ough,  Guilford,  Shaftesbury,  Hardwicke,  Cardigan, 
Clarendon,  Camden,  Ellesmere,  Rosslyn  ;  and  others 
nearer  our  own  day,  such  as  Tenterden,  Eldon, 
Brougham,  Denman,  Truro,  Lyndhurst,  St.  Leon- 
ard's, Cranworth,  Campbell,  and  Chelmsford. 

The  eminent  Lord  Lyndhurst's  father  was  a  por- 
trait painter,  and  that  of  St.  Leonard's,  a  hair-dresser 
in  Burlington  street.  Young  Edward  Sugden  was 
originally  an  errand-boy  in  the  office  of  the  late  Mr. 
Groom,  of  Henrietta  street,  Cavendish  Square,  a  cer- 
tificated conveyancer ;  and  it  was  there  that  the 
future  Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland  obtained  his  first 
notions  of  law.  The  origin  of  the  late  Lord  Ten- 
terden was  perhaps  the  humblest  of  all,  nor  was  he 
ashamed  of  it  ;  for  he  felt  that  the  industry,  study, 
and  application,  by  means  of  which  he  achieved  his 
eminent  position,  were  entirely  due  to  himself. 

It  is  related  of  him,  that  on  one  occasion  he  took 
his  son  Charles  to  a  little  shed,  then  standing  oppo- 
site the  western  front  of  Canterbury  Cathedral,  and 
pointing  it  out  to  him,  said,  "  Charles,  you  see  this 
little  shop  ;  I  have  brought  you  here  on  purpose  to 
show  it  to  you.  In  that  shop  your  grandfather  used 
to  shave  for  a  penny  !  That  is  the  proudest  reflection 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  381 

of  my  life."  When  a  boy,  Lord  Tenterden  was  a 
singer  in  the  cathedral,  and  it  is  a  curious  circum- 
stance that  his  destination  in  life  was  changed  by  a 
disappointment.  When  he  and  Mr.  Justice  Richards 
were  going  the  Home  Circuit  together,  they  went  to 
service  in  the  cathedral,  and  when  Richards  com- 
mended the  voice  of  a  singing-man  in  the  choir, 
Lord  Tenterden  said  :  "  Ah  !  that  is  the  only  man  I 
ever  envied.  When  at  school  in  this  town,  we  were 
candidates  for  a  chorister's  place,  and  he  obtained  it." 
Not  less  remarkable  was  the  rise  of  John  Scott, 
afterward  Lord  Eldon,  to  the  distinguished  office  of 
Lord  Chancellor.  He  was  the  son  of  a  Newcastle 
coal-fitter,  a  mischievous,  rather  than  a  studious  boy, 
a  great  scapegrace  at  school,  and  the  subject  of 
many  terrible  thrashings  for  robbing  orchards.  His 
father  first  thought  of  putting  him  as  an  apprentice 
to  a  grocer,  and  afterward  had  almost  made  up  his 
mind  to  make  a  coal-fitter  of  him,  but  about  this 
time  his  eldest  brother  William  (afterward  Lord 
Stowell)  had  gained  a  scholarship  at  Oxford,  and 
wrote  to  his  father,  saying,  "  Send  Jack  up  to  me." 
Accordingly  John  went  up  to  Oxford,  obtained  a  fel- 
lowship, but  soon  fell  in  love,  ran  away  with  the  girl 
across  the  border,  and  got  married,  and,  as  his  friends 
thought,  ruined  himself  for  life.  But  John  said,  "I 
have  married  rashly,  and  now  am  determined  to  work 
hard  to  provide  for  the  woman  I  love."  He  went  up 
to  London,  took  a  small  house,  and  settled  down  to  the 
study  of  the  law.  He  worked  with  great  diligence  and 
resolution,  rising  at  four  every  morning,  and  studying 
till  late  at  night,  binding  a  wet  towel  round  his  head 
to  keep  himself  awake.  Too  poor  to  study  under  a 


382  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

special  pleader,   he  copied  out  three  folio   volumes 
from  a  manuscript  collection  of  precedents. 

Long  after,  when  Lord  Chancellor,  passing  down 
Cursitor  Lane  one  day,  he  said  to  his  secretary, 
"  Here  was  my  first  perch  ;  many  a  time  do  I  recol- 
lect coming  down  this  street  with  sixpence  in  my  hand 
to  buy  sprats  for  supper."  When  at  length,  called  to 
the  bar,  he  waited  long  for  employment,  his  first 
year's  earnings  amounted  to  only  nine  shillings.  For 
four  years  he  assiduously  attended  the  London  courts 
and  the  Northern  Circuit,  with  little  better  success- 
Even  in  his  native  town  he  seldom  had  other  than 
pauper  cases  to  defend.  The  results  were  indeed  so 
discouraging  that  he  had  almost  determined  to  re- 
linquish his  chance  of  London  business,  and  settle 
down  in  some  provincial  town  as  a  country  barrister, 
His  brother  William  wrote  home,  "  Business  is  dull 
with  poor  Jack,  very  dull  indeed  !"  But  as  he  had 
escaped  being  a  grocer,  a  coal-fitter,  and  a  country 
parson,  so  did  he  also  escape  being  a  country  lawyer. 

An  opportunity  at  length  occurred,  which  enabled 
John  Scott  to  exhibit  the  large  legal  knowledge 
which  he  had  so  laboriously  acquired.  In  a  case  in 
which  he  was  employed,  he  urged  a  legal  point 
against  the  wishes,  both  of  the  attorney  and  client 
who  employed  him.  The  Master  of  the  Rolls  de- 
cided against  him,  but  on  an  appeal  to  the  House  of 
Lords,  Lord  Thurlow  reversed  the  decision  on  the 
very  point  that  Scott  had  urged.  On  leaving  the 
House  that  day,  a  solicitor  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder 
and  said,  "  Young  man,  your  bread  and  butter  is  cut 
for  life."  And  the  prophecy  proved  a  faithful  one, 
for  in  1783,  at  the  age  of  thirty-two,  he  was  ap- 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  383 

pointed  King's  Counsel,  put  at  the  head  of  the 
Northern  Circuit,  sat  in  Parliament,  and  so  went 
steadily  up  to  the  highest  office  the  Crown  had  to 
bestow,  holding  it  for  twenty-five  years. 

In  a  former  chapter  we  gave  an  account  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam Phipps,  a  Yankee  boy  by  birth,  who  founded  the 
house  of  Normanby.  Equally  interesting  and  valu- 
able is  the  example  of  Richard  Foley,  the  founder  of 
the  house  of  Foley,  whose  father  was  a  small  yeoman 
living  in  the  center  of  one  of  the  iron  manufacturing 
districts  of  England.  Richard  was  brought  up  to 
work  at  one  of  the  branches  of  the  trade,  that  of 
nail-making.  He  was  thus  a  daily  observer  of  the 
great  labor  and  loss  of  time  caused  by  the  clumsy 
process  then  used  for  dividing  the  rods  of  iron 
into  nails.  It  appeared  about  that  time  that  the 
English  nail-makers  were  gradually  losing  trade  on 
account  of  the  importation  of  Swedish  nails,  which 
were  made  much  faster  and  cheaper  by  reason  of  bet- 
ter mills  and  machinery. 

Young  Foley  determined  to  make  himself  master 
of  this  new  process.  Accordingly,  he  suddenly  dis- 
appeared from  his  native  town,  and  was  not  heard  of 
again  for  many  years.  No  one  knew  where  he  had 
gone,  not  even  his  own  family.  He  had  but  little 
money,  but  contrived  to  get  to  Hull,  and  then  worked 
his  passage  to  Sweden.  The  only  article  of  property 
which  he  carried  with  him  was  a  fiddle,  and  after 
landing  in  Sweden,  he  begged  and  fiddled  his  way 
to  the  iron  mines  near  Upsala.  Being  a  capital 
musician,  as  well  as  a  pleasant  fellow,  he  soon  in- 
gratiated himself  into  the  good-will  of  the  workmen, 
was  received  into  all  the  different  shops,  stored  his 


384  SELF-MADE  MEN. 

mind  with  observations,  and  then  as  suddenly  disap- 
peared from  among  the  miners,  as  he  had  from  home. 

Arrived  in  England,  he  communicated  the  results 
of  his  voyage  to  Mr.  Knight  and  another  person  at 
Stourbridge,  who  had  sufficient  confidence  in  him  to 
advance  the  requisite  funds  for  the  purpose  of  erect- 
ing buildings  and  machinery  for  splitting  iron  by  the 
new  process.  But  when  set  at  work,  to  the  great 
vexation  and  disappointment  of  all,  and  especially  of 
Richard  Foley,  it  was  found  that  the  machinery 
would  not  act, — at  all  events,  it  would  not  split  the 
bars  of  iron.  Again  Foley  disappeared.  It  was 
thought  that  shame  and  mortification  at  his  failure 
had  driven  him  away  forever.  Not  so  !  Foley  had 
determined  to  master  this  secret  of  iron-splitting,  and 
he  would  yet  do  it.  He  had  again  set  out  for  Sweden, 
accompanied  by  his  fiddle  as  before,  and  found  his 
way  to  the  iron  works,  where  he  was  joyfully  wel- 
comed by  the  miners  ;  and,  to  make  sure  of  their  fid- 
dler, they  this  time  lodged  him  in  the  very  splitting- 
mill  itself. 

There  was  such  an  apparent  absence  of  intelligence 
about  the  man,  except  in  fiddle-playing,  that  the 
miners  entertained  no  suspicions  as  to  the  object  of 
their  minstrel,  whom  they  thus  enabled  to  attain  the 
very  end  and  aim  of  his  life.  He  now  carefully  ex- 
amined the  works,  and  soon  discovered  the  cause  of 
his  failure.  He  made  drawings  or  tracings  of  the  ma- 
chinery as  well  as  he  could,  for  this  was  a  branch  of 
art  quite  new  to  him  ;  and  after  remaining  at  the 
place  long  enough  to  enable  him  to  verify  his  obser- 
vations, and  to  impress  the  mechanical  arrangements 
clearly  and  vividly  on  his  mind,  he  again  left  the 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  385 

nail  works,  reached  a  Swedish  port,  and  took  ship  for 
England.  A  man  of  such  purpose  could  not  but  suc- 
ceed. He  came  back  to  his  mills,  changed  his  ma- 
chinery, and  set  in  motion  that  branch  of  industry 
which  enabled  England  to  hold  her  own  nail-trade, 
and  also  supply  the  markets  of  other  nations.  Foley 
lived  to  see  the  results  of  his  own  perseverance  and 
skill,  and  died  respected  and  honored  by  the  whole 
nation  whose  interests  he  had  so  faithfully  served, 
while  serving  his  own. 

Henry  Bickersteth  was  the  son  of  a  surgeon  at 
Kirkby,  Lonsdale,  in  Westmoreland.  His  father  de- 
signed him  for  his  own  profession,  and  accordingly 
sent  him  to  Edinburgh,  and  then  to  Cambridge,  to 
complete  his  studies  for  that  purpose.  As  a  student 
the  boy  was  distinguished  for  his  intense  application 
and  steady  devotion  to  the  object  before  him.  He 
disliked  the  profession,  however,  and  wished  to 
abandon  it.  Losing  his  health  by  close  study,  he  be- 
came traveling  physician  for  Lord  Oxford,  and  went  to 
Italy.  Upon  his  return,  he  went  back  to  Cambridge, 
took  his  degree,  and  entered  as  a  student  in  the  Inner 
Temple.  He  worked  as  hard  at  law  as  he  had  done 
at  medicine. 

Writing  to  his  father  he  said,  "  Everybody  says  to 
me,  *  You  are  certain  of  success  in  the  end, — only 
persevere  ;'  and  though  I  don't  well  understand  how 
this  is  to  happen,  I  try  to  believe  it  as  much  as  I  can, 
and  I  shall  not  fail  to  do  everything  in  my  power." 
At  twenty-eight  he  was  called  to  the  bar,  and  had 
every  step  in  life  yet  to  make.  His  means  were 
straitened,  and  he  lived  upon  the  contributions  of 
his  friends.  For  years  he  studied  and  waited.  Still 
25 


386  SEL*F-MADE    MEN. 

no  business  came.  He  stinted  himself  in  recreation, 
in  clothes,  and  even  in  the  necessaries  of  life  ;  strug- 
gling on  indefatigably  through  all.  Writing  home  he 
"  confesses  that  he  hardly  knows  how  he  shall  be  able 
to  struggle  on  till  he  has  had  fair  time  and  opportu- 
nity to  establish  himself." 

After  three  years'  waiting  thus  without  success,  he 
wrote  to  his  friends  that,  rather  than  be  a  burden 
upon  them  longer,  he  was  willing  to  give  the  matter 
up  and  return  to  Cambridge,  "  where  he  was  sure  of 
support  and  some  profit."  The  friends  at  home  sent 
him  another  small  remittance,  and  he  went  on. 
Business  gradually  came  in.  Acquitting  himself 
creditably  in  small  matters,  he  was  intrusted  with 
cases  of  greater  importance.  He  was  a  man  who 
never  missed  an  opportunity,  nor  allowed  a  legitimate 
chance  of  improvement  to  escape  him.  His  unflinch- 
ing industry  soon  began  to  tell  upon  his  fortunes ;  a 
few  years  more  and  he  was  not  only  enabled  to  do 
without  assistance  from  home,  but  he  was  in  a  posi- 
tion to  pay  back  with  interest  the  debts  which  he  had 
incurred.  The  clouds  had  dispersed,  and  the  after- 
career  of  Henry  Bickersteth  was  one  of  honor,  of 
emolument,  and  of  distinguished  fame.  He  ended 
his  career  as  Master  of  the  Rolls,  sitting  in  the  House 
of  Peers  as  Baron  Langdale. 

Dr.  David  Livingstone  has  told  the  story  -of  his 
own  life  in  that  modest  and  unassuming  manner  so 
thoroughly  characteristic  of  the  man  himself.  His 
ancestors  were  poor  but  honest  Highlanders,  and 
one  of  them  is  said  to  have  left  behind  him  as  his 
only  legacy  the  precept,  "  Be  honest."  At  the  age  of 
ten,  Livingstone  was  put  to  work  in  a  cotton  factory. 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  387 

With  part  of  his  first  week's  wages  he  bought  a 
Latin  grammar  and  commenced  to  learn  that  lan- 
guage at  a  night  school.  When  not  sent  to  bed  by 
his  mother,  he  would  sit  up  till  twelve  or  later,  con- 
ning his  lessons,  although  he  had  to  rise  the  next 
morning  by  six.  In  this  way  he  went  through  Virgil 
and  Horace,  at  the  same  time  reading  scientific  works 
and  books  of  travel.  He  also  made  some  proficiency 
in  the  study  of  botany.  He  even  carried  on  his  read- 
ing amidst  the  roar  of  the  machinery  in  the  mill,  by 
placing  the  book  upon  the  spinning  jenny  which  he 
worked,  so  that  he  could  catch  sentence  after  sen- 
tence as  he  passed. 

In  this  way  the  persevering  factory  boy  acquired 
much  useful  knowledge ;  and  as  he  grew  older,  the 
desire  possessed  him  of  becoming  a  missionary  to  the 
heathen.  With  this  object,  he  set  himself  to  obtain 
a  medical  education,  in  order  the  better  to  be  quali- 
fied for  the  enterprise.  He  accordingly  economized 
his  earnings,  and  saved  as  much  money  as  enabled 
him  to  support  himself  while  attending  the  Medical 
and  Greek  classes,  as  well  as  the  Divinity  Lectures  at 
Glasgow,  for  several  winters,  working  as  a  cotton 
spinner  during  the  remainder  of  each  year.  He  thus 
supported  himself  during  his  college  career  entirely 
by  his  own  earnings  as  a  factory  workman,  never 
having  received  a  farthing  of  help  from  any  other 
source.  "  Looking  back  now,"  he  honestly  says,  "at 
that  time  of  toil,  I  cannot  but  feel  thankful  that  it 
formed  such  a  material  part  of  my  early  education  ; 
and,  were  it  possible,  I  should  like  to  begin  life  over 
again  in  the  same  lowly  style,  and  to  pass  through 
the  same  hardy  training." 


388  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

At  length  he  finished  his  medical  curriculum,  wrote 
his  Latin  thesis,  passed  his  examinations,  and  was 
admitted  a  licentiate  of  the  Faculty  of  Physicians 
and  Surgeons.  At  first  he  thought  of  going  to 
China,  but  the  war  then  raging  with  that  country 
prevented  his  following  out  that  idea ;  and  having 
offered  his  services  to  the  London  Missionary  Society, 
he  was  by  them  sent  to  Africa,  which  he  reached  in 
1840.  He  had  intended  to  proceed  to  China  by  his 
own  efforts  ;  and  he  says  the  only  pang  he  had  in  go- 
ing to  Africa  at  the  charge  of  the  London  Mission- 
ary Society  was,  because  "it  was  not  quite  agreeable 
to  one  accustomed  to  work  his  own  way,  to  become 
in  a  manner  dependent  upon  others." 

Arrived  in  Africa,  he  set  to  work  with  great  vigor. 
He  could  not  brook  the  idea  of  merely  entering  upon 
the  labors  of  others,  but  cut  out  a  large  sphere  of  in- 
dependent work,  preparing  himself  for  it  by  under- 
taking manual  labor  in  building  and  other  handicraft 
employment,  in  addition  to  teaching,  which,  he  says, 
"  made  me  generally  as  much  exhausted  and  unfit  for 
study  in  the  evenings  as  ever  I  had  been  when  a  cot- 
ton-spinner. While  laboring  among  the  Bechuanas, 
he  dug  canals,  built  houses,  cultivated  fields,  reared 
cattle,  and  taught  the  natives  while  he  worked  with 
them.  At  first,  when  starting  with  a  party  of  them 
on  foot  upon  a  long  journey,  he  overheard  their  ob- 
servations upon  his  appearance  and  powers  :  "  He  is 
not  strong,"  said  they  ;  "  he  is  quite  slim,  and  only 
appears  stout  because  he  puts  himself  into  those  bags 
(trousers);  he  will  soon  break  up." 

This  caused  the  missionary's  Highland  blood  to 
rise,  and  made  him  despise  the  fatigue  of  keeping 


SELF-MADE  MEN.  389 

them  all  at  the  top  of  their  speed  for  days  together, 
until  he  heard  them  expressing  proper  opinions  of 
his  pedestrian  powers.  What  he  did  in  Africa,  and 
how  he  worked,  may  be  learned  from  his  own  "  Mis- 
sionary Travels,"  one  of  the  most  fascinating  books 
of  its  kind  that  has  ever  been  given  to  the  public. 
One  of  his  last  known  acts  is  thoroughly  character- 
istic of  the  man.  The  "  Birkenhead  "  steam  launch, 
which  he  took  out  with  him  to  Africa,  having  proved 
a  failure,  he  sent  home  orders  for  the  construction  of 
another  at  an  estimated  cost  of  ,£2,000.  This  sum 
he  proposed  to  defray  out  of  the  means  which  he 
had  set  aside  for  his  children  arising  from  the  profits 
of  his  travels. 

John  C.  Loudon,  the  landscape  gardener,  was  an- 
other man  of  industrious  character,  and  possessed  of 
an  extraordinary  working  power.  The  son  of  a 
farmer  near  Edinburgh,  he  was  early  inured  to  work. 
His  skill  in  drawing  plans  and  making  sketches  of 
scenery  induced  his  father  to  train  him  for  a  land- 
scape gardener.  During  his  apprenticeship  he  sat  up 
two  whole  nights  every  week  to  study  ;  yet  he  worked 
harder  during  the  day  than  any  laborer.  During  his 
studious  hours  he  learned  French,  and  before  he  was 
eighteen  translated  a  life  of  Abelard  for  an  Encyclo- 
paedia. He  was  so  eager  to  make  .progress  in  life, 
that  when  only  twenty,  while  working  as  a  gardener  in 
England,  he  wrote  down  in  his  note-book,  "  I  am 
now  twenty  years  of  age,  and  perhaps  a  third  part  of 
my  life  has  passed  away,  and  yet  what  have  I  done  to 
benefit  my  fellow-men  ?" — an  unusual  reflection  for 
a  youth  of  only  twenty.  From  French  he  proceeded 
to  learn  German,  and  rapidly  mastered  that  language. 


SELF-MADE    MEN. 

He  now  took  a  large  farm  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
troducing Scotch  improvements  in  the  art  of  agricul- 
ture, and  soon  succeeded  in  realizing  a  considerable 
income.  The  continent  being  thrown  open  on  the 
cessation  of  the  war,  he  proceeded  to  travel  for  the 
purpose  of  observation,  making  sketches  of  the  sys- 
tem of  gardening  in  all  countries,  which  he  after- 
ward introduced  in  the  historical  part  of  his  labo- 
rious Encyclopaedia  of  Gardening.  He  twice  re- 
peated his  journeys  abroad  for  a  similar  purpose,  the 
result  of  which  appeared  in  his  books,  which  perhaps 
are  among  the  most  remarkable  works  of  their  kind, 
distinguished  for  the  immense  mass  of  useful  matter 
which  they  contain,  gathered  by  dint  of  persevering 
industry  and  labor  such  as  has  rarely  been  equaled. 

Men  who  are  resolved  to  find  a  way  for  themselves, 
will  always  find  opportunities  enough  ;  and  if  they  do 
not  lie  ready  to  their  hand,  they  will  make  them.  It 
is  not  those  who  have  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  col- 
leges, museums,  and  public  galleries  that  have  accom- 
plished the  most  for  science  and  art ;  nor  have  the 
greatest  mechanics  and  inventors  been  trained  in  me- 
chanics' institutes.  Necessity,  oftener  than  facility, 
has  been  the  mother  of  invention  ;  and  the  most  pro- 
lific school  of  all  has  been  the  school  of  difficulty. 
Some  of  the  very  best  workmen  have  had  the  most 
indifferent  tools  to  work  with.  But  it  is  not  tools 
that  make  the  workman,  but  the  trained  skill  and 
perseverance  of  the  man  himself.  Indeed,  it  is  pro- 
verbial that  the  bad  workman  never  yet  had  a  good 
tool. 

Some  one  asked  Opie  by  what  wonderful  process 
he  mixed  his  colors.  "  I  mix  them  with  my  brains, 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  39! 

sir,"  was  his  reply.  It  is  the  same  with  every  work- 
man who  would  excel  Ferguson  made  marvelous 
things, — such  as  his  wooden  clock,  that  accurately 
measured  the  hours, — by  means  of  a  common  pen- 
knife, a  tool  in  everybody's  hand.  A  pan  of  water 
and  two  thermometers  were  the  tools  by  which  Dr. 
Black  discovered  latent  heat ;  and  a  prism,  a  lens, 
and  a  sheet  of  pasteboard  enabled  Newton  to  unfold 
the  composition  of  light,  and  the  origin  of  colcrs. 
An  eminent  foreign  savant  once  called  upon  Dr.  Wol- 
laston  and  requested  to  be  shown  over  his  labora- 
tories in  which  science  had  been  enriched  by  so  many 
important  discoveries,  when  the  doctor  took  him  into 
a  little  study,  and  pointing  to  an  old  tea-tray  on  the 
table  containing  a  few  watch-glasses,  test  papers,  a 
small  balance,  and  a  blowpipe,  said,  "  There  is  all  the 
laboratory  that  I  have  ! " 

Stothard  learned  the  art  of  combining  colors  by 
closely  studying  butterflies'  wings  ;  he  would  often  say 
that  no  one  knew  what  he  owed  to  these  tiny  insects. 
Watt  made  his  first  model  of  the  condensing  engine 
out  of  an  old  anatomist's  syringe  used  to  inject  ar- 
teries previous  to  dissection.  Gifford  worked  his  first 
problem  in  mathematics,  when  a  cobbler's  apprentice, 
upon  small  scraps  of  leather  which  he  beat  smooth 
for  the  purpose  ;  while  Rittenhouse,  the  astronomer, 
first  calculated  eclipses  on  his  plow-handle.  Pro- 
fessor Lee  was  first  attracted  to  the  study  of  Hebrew 
by  finding  a  Bible  in  this  language  in  a  synagogue 
while  working  as  a  carpenter  at  repairing  the  benches. 
He  bought  a  cheap,  second-hand  Hebrew  grammar, 
set  himself  at  work,  learned  the  language  for  himself, 
and  so  was  able  to  read  the  book  in  the  original. 


SELF*-MADE   MEN. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle  asked  Edmund  Stone  how  he, 
a  poor  gardener's  boy,  contrived  to  be  able  to  read 
Newton's  Principia  in  Latin.  The  youth  replied : 
"  One  needs  only  to  know  the  twenty-four  letters  of 
the  alphabet,  in  order  to  learn  everything  else  he 
wishes."  Application,  perseverance,  and  the  right 
improvement  of  opportunities,  will  do  the  rest. 

Dr.  Joseph  Priestley,  the  founder  of  a  new  depart- 
ment of  science,  and  the  discoverer  of  many  gases, 
was  accidentally  drawn  to  the  subject  by  the  circum- 
stance of  his  residing  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  large 
brewery.  Being  an  attentive  observer,  he  noted,  in 
visiting  the  brewery,  the  peculiar  appearances  attend- 
ing the  extinction  of  lighted  chips  in  the  gas  float- 
ing over  the  fermented  liquor.  He  was  forty  years 
old  at  the  time,  and  knew  nothing  of  chemistry ;  he 
obtained  access,  however,  to  books,  which  taught  him 
little,  for  as  yet  nothing  was  known  on  the  subject. 
Then  he  commenced  experimenting,  devising  his 
own  apparatus,  which  was  of  the  rudest  description. 
The  curious  results  of  first  experiments  led  to  others, 
which  in  his  hands  shortly  became  the  science  of 
pneumatic  chemistry.  About  the  same  time,  Scheelc 
was  obscurely  working  in  the  same  direction  in  a  re- 
mote Swedish  village,  and  he  discovered  several  new 
gases,  with  no  more  effective  apparatus  at  his  com- 
mand than  a  few  apothecaries'  phials  and  pig's 
bladders. 

Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  when  an  apothecary's  appren- 
tice, performed  his  first  experiments  with  instruments 
of  the  rudest  description.  He  extemporized  the 
greater  part  of  them  himself,  out  of  the  motley  ma- 
terials which  chance  threw  in  his  way.  The  pots  and 


SELF-MADE   MEN.  393 

pans  of  the  kitchen,  and  the  phials  and  vessels  of  his 
master's  surgery,  were  remorselessly  put  in  requisi- 
tion. It  happened  that  a  French  vessel  was  wrecked 
off  Land's  End,  and  the  surgeon  escaped,  bear- 
ing with  him  his  case  of  instruments,  among  which 
was  an  old-fashioned  clyster  apparatus  ;  this  article 
he  presented  to  Davy,  with  whom  he  had  become 
acquainted.  The  apothecary's  apprentice  received  it 
with  great  exultation,  and  forthwith  employed  it  as  a 
part  of  a  pneumatic  apparatus  which  he  contrived, 
afterward  using  it  to  perform  the  duties  of  air-pump. 
The  words  which  Davy  entered  in  his  note-book, 
when  about  twenty  years  of  age,  working  away  in 
Dr.  Beddoe's  laboratory  at  Bristol,  were  eminently 
characteristic  of  him  :  "  I  have  neither  riches,  nor 
power,  nor  birth,  to  recommend  me  ;  yet,  if  I  live,  I  trust 
I  shall  not  be  of  less  service  to  mankind  and  my  friends, 
than  if  I  had  been  born  with  all  these  advantages." 
Davy  possessed  the  capability,  as  Faraday  did,  of  de- 
voting all  the  powers  of  his  mind  to  the  practical  and 
experimental  investigation  of  a  subject  in  all  its  bear- 
ings ;  and  such  a  mind  will  rarely  fail,  by  dint  of  mere 
industry  and  patient  thinking,  in  producing  results  of 
the  highest  order.  Coleridge  said  of  Davy,  "  There 
is  an  energy  and  an  elasticity  in  his  mind,  which  en- 
ables him  to  seize  on  and  analyze  all  questions,  push- 
ing them  to  their  legitimate  consequences.  Every 
subject  in  Davy's  mind  has  the  principle  of  vitality. 
Living  thoughts  spring  up  like  turf  under  his  feet." 
Davy,  on  his  part,  said  of  Coleridge,  "  With  the  most 
exalted  genius,  enlarged  views,  sensitive  heart,  and 
enlightened  mind,  he  will  be  the  victim  of  a  want  of 
order,  precision,  and  regularity." 


394  SELI^-MADE    MEN. 

Cuvier,  when  a  youth,  was  one  day  strolling  along 
the  sands  near  Fiquainville,  in  Normandy,  when  he 
observed  a  cuttle-fish  lying  stranded  on  the  beach. 
He  was  attracted  by  the  curious  object,  took  it  home 
to  dissect,  and  began  the  study  of  the  mollusca, 
which  ended  in  his  becoming  one  of  the  greatest 
among  natural  historians.  In  like  manner,  Hugh 
Miller's  curiosity  was  excited  by  the  remarkable  traces 
of  extinct  sea-animals  in  the  Old  Red  Sandstone,  on 
which  he  worked  as  a  quarryman.  He  inquired,  ob- 
served, studied,  and  became  a  geologist.  "  It  was 
the  necessity,"  said  he,  "which  made  me  a  quarrier, 
that  taught  me  to  be  a  geologist." 

When  the  building  committee  advertised  for  plans 
of  the  Crystal  Palace  of  1851,  the  successful  com- 
petitor was  at  the  time  acting  as  gardener  to  the  Duke 
of  Devonshire,  in  England.  He  is  now  known  as 
Sir  Joseph  Paxton.  The  architects  and  engineers 
were  very  much  puzzled  when  Paxton  submitted  his 
design,  but  its  novelty  and  suitableness  for  the  pur- 
poses intended,  at  once  secured  its  adoption.  Paxton 
made  his  first  sketch  of  the  building  upon  a  sheet  of 
blotting-paper  in  the  rooms  of  the  Midland  Railway 
Company  at  Derby,  but  this  sketch  indicated  its  prin- 
cipal features  as  accurately  as  the  finished  drawings 
did  afterward.  Was  it  a  sudden  idea,  an  inspiration 
of  genius  ?  Not  at  all.  The  architect  of  the  Crystal 
Palace  was  simply  a  man  who  cultivated  opportuni- 
ties ;  a  laborious,  painstaking  man,  whose  life  had 
been  one  of  self-improvement  and  assiduous  cultiva- 
tion of  knowledge.  The  idea  of  the  building,  as 
Paxton  declared  in  a  subsequent  lecture,  was  slowly 
and  patiently  elaborated  by  experiments  extending 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  395 

over  many  years,  and  the  Exhibition  of  1851  only 
afforded  him  an  opportunity  to  put  his  idea  forward 
—with  what  result  we  have  seen. 

Dr.  Marshall  Hall  was  the  son  of  Robert  Hall  of 
Basford,  England,  a  manufacturer  who  was  the  in- 
ventor of  bleaching  cotton  cloth  by  chlorine  on  a 
large  scale.  In  the  old  process  of  bleaching,  each 
piece  had  to  be  exposed  to  the  air  several  weeks  in 
the  summer,  and  kept  continually  moist  by  hand 
labor.  For  this  purpose  meadow  land  was  essential. 
Now  a  single  establishment  near  Glasgow  bleaches 
1,400  pieces  daily  throughout  the  year  in  as  many 
hours  as  it  formerly  took  weeks.  To  this  same  man's 
second  son,  Samuel  Nottingham  Hall,  the  world  is 
indebted  for  the  manufacture  and  bleaching  of  the 
celebrated  Nottingham  lace.  Marshall  Hall  became 
a  physician  and  a  physiologist,  and  his  name  will  rank 
with  those  of  Harvey,  Hunter,  Jenner,  and  Bell. 
During  the  whole  course  of  his  long  and  useful  life, 
he  was  a  most  careful  and  minute  observer ;  and  no 
fact,  however  apparently  insignificant,  escaped  his 
attention. 

His  important  discovery  of  the  diastalic  nervous 
system,  by  which  his  name  will  long  be  known  among 
scientific  men,  originated  in  an  exceedingly  simple 
circumstance.  *  When  investigating  the  pneumonic 
circulation  in  the  triton,  the  decapitated  object  lay 
upon  the  table ;  and  on  separating  the  tail,  and 
accidentally  pricking  the  external  integument,  he 
observed  that  it  moved  with  energy,  and  became 
contorted  into  various  forms.  He  had  not  touched  a 
muscle  nor  a  muscular  nerve  ;  what  then,  was  the  na- 
ture of  these  movements  ?  The  same  phenomena  had 


396  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

probably  often  before  been  observed,  but  Dr.  Hall 
was  the  first  to  apply  himself  perseveringly  to  the  in- 
vestigation of  their  causes  ;  and  he  exclaimed  on  the 
occasion,  "  I  will  never  rest  satisfied  until  I  have 
found  all  this  out,  and  made  it  clear."  His  attention 
to  the  subject  was  almost  incessant ;  and  it  is  esti- 
mated that  in  the  course  of  his  life  he  devoted  not 
less  than  25,000  hours  to  its  experimental  and  chemi- 
cal investigation  ;  at  the  same  time  he  was  carrying 
on  an  extensive  private  practice,  and  officiating  as  a 
lecturer  at  St.  Thomas'  Hospital  and  other  medical 
schools.  At  first,  his  discovery  was  rejected  by  the 
Royal  Society,  but  after  seventeen  years  it  was  ac- 
cepted and  acknowledged,  both  at  home  and  abroad. 

Sir  William  Herschel,  the  astronomer,  was  the  son 
of  a  poor  German  musician  who  came  to  England 
from  the  Continent  to  seek  his  fortune.  He  first 
joined  a  military  band  and  played  the  oboe.  A  Dr. 
Miller  of  Doncaster  heard  Herschel  perform  a  solo 
on  a  violin  and  was  so  much  pleased  with  it  and  him, 
that  he  offered  the  young  musician  a  home  at  his 
house.  Herschel  accepted  the  offer,  played  at  con- 
certs when  wanted,  and  spent  the  rest  of  his  time 
studying  in  Dr.  Miller's  library.  A  new  organ  hav- 
ing been  built  at  Halifax,  Herschel  applied  for  the 
position  of  organist,  and  was  selected.  While  there 
he  began  to  study  mathematics,  entirely  unassisted. 

Next  he  went  to  Bath  and  joined  a  band,  besides 
officiating  as  organist  in  a  chapel.  Some  recent  dis- 
coveries in  astronomy  having  arrested  his  mind,  and 
awakened  in  him  a  powerful  spirit  of  curiosity,  he 
sought  and  obtained  from  a  friend  the  loan  of  a  two- 
foot  Gregorian  telescope.  So  fascinated  was  the 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  397 

poor  musician  by  the  science,  that  he  even  thought  of 
purchasing  a  telescope,  but  the  price  asked  by  the 
London  optician  was  so  alarming,  that  he  deter- 
mined to  make  one.  Those  who  know  what  a  re- 
flecting telescope  is,  and  -the  skill  which  is  required  to 
prepare  the  concave  metallic  speculum  which  forms 
the  most  important  part  of  the  apparatus,  will  be 
able  to  form  some  idea  of  the  difficulty  of  this  under- 
taking. Nevertheless,  Herschel  succeeded,  after 
long  and  painful  labor,  in  completing  a  five-foot  re- 
flector, with  which  he  had  the  gratification  of  observ- 
ing the  ring  and  satellites  of  Saturn. 

Not  satisfied  with  this  triumph,  he  proceeded  to 
make  other  instruments  in  succession,  of  seven,  ten, 
and  even  twenty  feet.  In  constructing  the  seven- 
foot  reflector,  he  finished  no  fewer  than  two  hundred 
specula  before  he  produced  one  that  would  bear  any 
power  that  was  applied  to  it, — a  striking  instance  of 
the  persevering  laboriousness  of  the  man.  While 
sublimely  gauging  the  heavens  with  his  instruments, 
he  continued  patiently  to  earn  his  bread  by  piping  to 
the  fashionable  frequenters  of  the  Bath  Pump-Room. 
So  eager  wras  he  in  his  astronomical  observations, 
that  he  would  steal  away  from  the  room  during  an 
interval  of  the  performance,  give  a  little  turn  to  his 
telescope,  and  contentedly  return  to  his  oboe.  Thus 
working  away,  Herschel  discovered  the  Georgium 
Sidus,  the  orbit  and  rate  of  motion  of  which  he  care- 
fully calculated  and  sent  to  the  Royal  Society,  when 
the  humble  oboe-player  found  himself  at  once  famous. 
He  was  shortly  after  appointed  Astronomer  Royal, 
and  by  the  kindness  of  George  III.,  placed  in  com- 
fortable circumstances  for  life. 


398  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

Hugh  Miller  has  told  the  story  of  his  life  in  a  book 
called,  "  My  Schools  and  Schoolmasters."  It  is  full 
of  lessons  of  self-help,  and  is  the  history  of  the  for- 
mation of  a  truly  noble  character.  His  father  was 
drowned  at  sea  when  he  was  but  a  child,  leaving 
the  boy  in  the  care  of  his  widowed  mother.  He  had 
some  school  training,  read  much,  and  gleaned  pick- 
ings of  odd  knowledge  from  many  quarters.  With 
a  big  hammer  that  belonged  to  his  great-grandfather, 
the  boy  went  about  chipping  the  stones  and  laying  up 
specimens  of  mica,  porphyry,  garnet,  and  such  like. 
Sometimes  he  had  a  day  in  the  woods,  and  found 
wonderful  geological  curiosities  there.  While  search- 
ing among  the  rocks  on  the  beach,  the  farm-servants 
would  ask  him  whether  he  was  "  getting  silver 
among  the  stones,"  but  the  boy  kept  on,  paying  no 
heed  to  any  unkind  remarks. 

His  uncles  were  very  anxious  to  have  him  enter 
the  ministry,  and  offered  to  pay  all  his  expenses  at 
college,  but  the  youth  did  not  feel  called  to  the  min- 
istry, and  finally,  the  uncles  gave  up  the  point.  Hugh 
was  accordingly  apprenticed  to  the  trade  of  his  choice, 
— that  of  a  working  stone  mason  ;  and  he  began  his 
laboring  career  in  a  quarry,  looking  out  upon  the 
Cromarty  Frith.  This  quarry  proved  one  of  his  best 
schools.  The  remarkable  geological  formations 
which  it  displayed,  awakened  his  curiosity.  The 
bar  of  deep-red  stone  beneath,  and  the  bar  of  pale- 
red  clay  above,  were  noted  by  the  young  quarryman, 
who,  even  in  such  unpromising  subjects,  found  matter 
for  observation  and  reflection.  Where  other  men  saw 
nothing,  he  detected  analogies,  differences,  and  pe- 
culiarities, which  set  him  to  thinking.  He  simply 


SELF— MADE    MEN.  399 

kept  his  eyes  and  his  mind  open  ;  was  sober,  diligent, 
and  persevering ;  and  this  was  the  secret  of  his  in- 
tellectual growth. 

His  curiosity  was  excited  and  kept  alive  by  the 
curious  organic  remains,  principally  of  old  and  ex- 
tinct species  of  fishes,  ferns,  and  ammonites,  which 
lay  revealed  along  the  coasts  by  the  washings  of  the 
waves,  or  were  exposed  by  the  stroke  of  his  mason's 
hammer.  He  never  lost  sight  of  this  object ;  went 
on  accumulating  observations,  comparing  formations, 
until  at  length,  when  no  longer  a  working  mason, 
many  years  afterward,  he  gave  to  the  world  his 
highly  interesting  work  on  the  Old  Red  Sandstone, 
which  at  once  established  his  reputation  as  a  scien- 
tific geologist.  But  this  work  was  the  fruit  of  long 
years  of  patient  observation  and  research.  As  he 
modestly  states  in  his  autobiography :  "  The  only 
merit  to  which  I  lay  claim  in  the  case  is  that  of  pa- 
tient research, — a  merit  in  which  whoever  wills  may 
rival  or  surpass  me ;  and  this  humble  faculty  of  pa- 
tience, when  rightly  developed,  may  lead  to  more  ex- 
traordinary developments  of  idea  than  even  genius 
itself." 

John  Leyden  was  the  son  of  a  shepherd  in  one  of 
the  wildest  valleys  of  Roxburghshire,  and  was  almost 
entirely  self-educated.  Like  many  Scotch  shepherds' 
sons, — like  Hogg,  who  taught  himself  to  write  by 
copying  the  letters  of  a  printed  book  as  he  lay  watch- 
ing his  flock  on  the  hill-side, — like  Cairns,  who,  from 
tending  sheep  on  the  Lammermoors,  raised  himself 
by  dint  of  application  and  industry,  to  the  professor's 
chair  which  he  so  long  worthily  held, — like  Mur- 
ray, Ferguson,  and  many  more,  Leyden  was  early 


4OO  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

inspired  by  a  thirst  for  knowledge.  When  a  poor 
barefooted  boy,  he  walked  six  or  eight  miles  across 
the  moors  daily  to  learn  reading  at  the  little  village 
schoolhouse  at  Kirkton,  and  this  was  all  the  educa- 
tion he  received  ;  the  rest  he  acquired  for  himself. 

He  found  his  way  to  Edinburgh  to  attend  the  col- 
lege there,  setting  the  extremest  penury  at  utter  de- 
fiance. He  was  first  discovered  as  a  frequenter  of  a 
small  bookseller's  shop  kept  by  Archibald  Constable, 
afterward  so  well  known  as  a  publisher.  He  would 
pass  hour  after  hour  perched  on  a  ladder  in  mid-air, 
with  some  great  folio  in  his  hand,  forgetful  of  the 
scanty  meal  of  bread  and  water  which  awaited  him  at 
his  miserable  lodging.  Access  to  books  and  lectures 
comprised  all  within  the  bounds  of  his  wishes.  Thus 
he  toiled  and  battled  at  the  gates  of  science  until  his 
unconquerable  perseverance  carried  everything  be- 
fore it.  Before  he  had  attained  his  nineteenth  year, 
he  had  astonished  all  the  professors  in  Edinburgh  by 
his  profound  knowledge  of  Greek  and  Latin,  and  the 
general  mass  of  information  he  had  acquired. 

Having  turned  his  views  to  India,  he  sought  em- 
ployment in  the  civil  service,  but  failed.  He  was, 
however,  informed  that  a  surgeon's  assistant's  com- 
mission was  open  to  him.  But  he  was  no  surgeon, 
and  knew  no  more  of  the  profession  than  a  child. 
He  could,  however,  learn.  Then  he  was  told  that  he 
must  be  ready  to  pass  in  six  months !  Nothing 
daunted,  he  set  to  work  to  acquire  in  six  months 
what  usually  requires  three  years.  At  the  end  of  six 
months  he  took  his  degree  with  honor.  Scott  and  a 
few  friends  helped  him  to  fit  out,  and  he  sailed  for 
India,  after  publishing  a  poem  entitled  "The  Scenes 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  4OI 

of  Infancy."  An  early  death  by  fever  only  prevented 
him  from  becoming  one  of  the  greatest  of  Oriental 
scholars. 

To  know  how  the  example  of  the  poorest  of  men 
may  affect  society,  hear  what  Dr.  Guthrie  of  Scotland 
says  of  the  influence  of  John  Pounds,  a  Portsmouth 
cobbler,  upon  his  own  career  as  the  apostle  of  the 
ragged-school  movement :  "  The  interest  I  have  been 
led  to  take  in  this  cause  is  an  example  of  how,  in 
Providence,  a  man's  destiny — his  course  of  life,  like 
that  of  a  river — may  be  determined  and  affected  by 
very  trivial  circumstances.  It  is  rather  curious — at 
least,  it  is  interesting  to  me  to  remember — that  it  was 
by  a  picture  I  was  first  led  to  take  an  interest  in 
ragged  schools — by  a  picture  in  an  old,  obscure,  de- 
caying burgh  that  stands  on  the  shores  of  the  Frith 
of  Forth,  the  birthplace  of  Thomas  Chalmers. 

"I  went  to  see  this  place  many  years  ago,  and, 
going  into  an  inn  for  refreshment,  I  found  the  room 
covered  with  pictures  of  shepherdesses  with  their 
crooks,  and  sailors  in  holiday  attire,  not  particularly 
interesting.  But  above  the  chimney-piece  there  was 
a  large  print,  more  respectable  than  its  neighbors, 
which  represented  a  cobbler's  room.  The  cobbler 
was  there  himself,  spectacles  on  nose,  an  old  shoe  be- 
tween his  knees,  the  massive  forehead  and  firm  mouth 
indicating  great  determination  of  character,  and  be- 
neath his  bushy  eyebrows  benevolence  gleamed  out 
on  a  number  of  poor  ragged  boys  and  girls  who  stood 
at  their  lessons  round  the  busy  cobbler. 

"  My  curiosity  was  awakened,  and  in  the  inscription 
I  read  how  this  man,  John  Pounds,  a  cobbler  in 
Portsmouth,  taking  pity  on  the  multitude  of  poor 


4O2  SELV-MADE    MEN. 

ragged  children  left  by  ministers  and  magistrates  and 
ladies  and  gentlemen  to  go  to  ruin  on  the  streets, 
how,  like  a  good  shepherd,  he  gathered  in  these 
wretched  outcasts ;  how  he  had  trained  them  to  God 
and  to  the  world;  and  how,  while  earning  his  daily  bread 
by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  he  had  rescued  from  misery 
and  saved  to  society  not  less  than  five  hundred  of  these 
children.  I  felt  ashamed  of  myself.  I  felt  reproved 
for  the  little  I  had  done.  My  feelings  were  touched. 
I  was  astonished  at  this  man's  achievements,  and  I 
well  remember,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment, 
saying  to  my  companion  (and  I  have  seen  in  my 
cooler  and  calmer  moments  no  reason  for  unsaying 
the  saying):  'That  man  is  -an  honor  to  humanity, 
and  deserves  the  tallest  monument  ever  raised  within 
the  shores  of  Britain.'  I  took  up  that  man's  history, 
and  I  found  it  animated  by  the  spirit  of  Him  who  had 
*  compassion  on  the  multitude.' 

"  John  Pounds  was  a  clever  man  besides,  and,  like 
Paul,  if  he  could  not  win  a  poor  boy  any  other  way, 
he  won  him  by  art.  He  would  be  seen  chasing  a 
ragged  boy  along  the  quays,  and  compelling  him  to 
come  to  school,  not  by  the  power  of  a  policeman,  but 
by  the  power  of  a  hot  potato.  He  knew  the  love  an 
Irishman  had  for  a  potato,  and  John  Pounds  might 
be  seen  running,  holding  under  the  boy's  nose  a 
potato,  like  an  Irishman,  very  hot,  and  with  a  coat  as 
ragged  as  himself.  When  the  day  comes  when  honor 
will  be  done  to  whom  honor  is  due,  I  can  fancy  the 
crowd  of  whose  fame  poets  have  sung,  and  to  whose 
memory  monuments  have  been  raised,  dividing  like  the 
wave,  and,  passing  the  great,  the  noble,  and  the 
mighty  of  the  land,  this  poor,  obscure  old  man,  step- 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  403 

ping  forward  and  receiving  the  especial  notice  of 
Him  who  said :  '  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  to  one  of  the 
least  of  these,  ye  did  it  also  to  me.' ' 

There  are  many  more  illustrious  names  which 
might  be  cited  to  prove  the  truth  of  the  common  say- 
ing that  "it  is  never  too  late  to  learn."  Even  at  ad- 
vanced years  men  can  do  much,  if  they  will  determine  to 
make  a  beginning.  Sir  Henry  Spelman  did  not  begin 
the  study  of  science  until  he  was  between  fifty  and  sixty 
years  of  age.  Franklin  was  fifty  before  he  fully 
entered  upon  the  study  of  natural  philosophy.  Dry- 
den  and  Scott  were  not  known  as  authors  until  each 
was  in  his  fortieth  year.  Boccaccio  was  thirty-five 
when  he  entered  upon  his  literary  career,  and  Alfieri 
was  forty-six  when  he  commenced  the  study  of  Greek. 
Dr.  Arnold  learned  German  at  an  advanced  age  for 
the  purpose  of  reading  Niebuhr  in  the  original ;  and 
in  like  manner  James  Watt,  when  about  forty,  learned 
French,  German,  and  Italian,  that  he  might  read  the 
valuable  mechanical  works  published  in  those  lan- 
guages. Rev.  Robert  Hall  was  once  found  lying 
upon  the  floor,  racked  with  pain,  learning  Italian  in 
his  old  age.  Handel  was  forty-eight  before  he  pub- 
lished any  of  his  great  works.  None  but  the  frivo- 
lous or  the  indolent  will  say :  "  I  am  too  old  to 
learn." 

In  fact,  precocity  in  youth  is  quite  as  often  a  symp- 
tom of  disease  as  an  indication  of  permanent  intel- 
lectual vigor.  What  becomes  of  all  the  remarkably 
smart  children  ?  Trace  them  through  life,  and  it  will 
be  found  that  the  dull  boys  often  shoot  ahead  of 
them.  An  interesting  chapter  might  be  written  on 
the  subject  of  illustrious  dunces — dull  boys,  but  bril- 


404  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

liant  men.  We  have  room,  however,  for  only  a  few 
instances.  Pietro  di  Cortona,  the  painter,  was  thought 
so  stupid  that  he  was  nicknamed  "Ass'  Head"  when 
a  boy,  and  Tomaso  Guidi  was  generally  known  as 
"  Heavy  Tom,"  though  by  diligence  he  afterward 
raised  himself  to  the  highest  eminence.  Newton, 
when  at  school,  stood  at  the  bottom  of  the  lowermost 
form  but  one.  The  boy  above  Newton  having  kicked 
him,  the  dunce  showed  his  pluck  by  challenging  him  to 
a  fight,  and  beat  him.  Then  he  set  to  work  with  a 
will,  and  determined  also  to  vanquish  his  antagonist 
as  a  scholar,  which  he  did,  rising  to  the  head  of  his 
class. 

Many  of  our  greatest  divines  have  been  anything 
but  precocious.  Isaac  Barrow,  when  a  boy  at  the 
Charterhouse  School,  was  notorious  chiefly  for  his 
strong  temper,  pugnacious  habits,  and  proverbial  idle- 
ness as  a  scholar,  and  he  caused  such  grief  to  his 
parents,  that  his  father  used  to  say  that  if  it  pleased 
God  to  take  from  him  any  of  his  children,  he  hoped 
it  might  be  Isaac,  the  least  promising  of  them  all. 
Adam  Clarke,  when  a  boy,  was  proclaimed  by  his 
father  to  be  "  a  grievous  dunce,"  though  he  could  roll 
large  stones  about.  Dean  Swift,  one  of  the  greatest 
writers  of  pure  English,  was  "plucked"  at  Dublin 
University,  and  only  obtained  his  recommendation  to 
Oxford  by  special  grace.  The  well-known  Dr.  Chal- 
mers and  Dr.  Cook  were  boys  together  at  the  parish 
school  of  St.  Andrews,  and  they  were  found  so  stupid 
and  mischievous,  that  the  master,  irritated  beyond 
measure,  dismissed  them  both  as  incorrigible  dunces. 

The  brilliant  Sheridan  showed  so  little  capacity  as 
a  boy,  that  he  was  presented  to  a  tutor  by  his  mother 


SELF-MADE    MEN.  405 

with  the  complimentary  accompaniment,  that  he  was 
an  incorrigible  dunce.  Walter  Scott  was  all  but  a 
dunce  when  a  boy,  always  much  readier  for  a 
"  bicker  "  than  apt  at  his  lessons.  At  the  Edinburgh 
University,  Professor  Dalzell  pronounced  upon  him 
the  sentence  that  "  dunce  he  was,  and  dunce  he 
would  remain."  Chatterton  was  returned  on  his 
mother's  hands  as  a  "fool,  of  whom  nothing  could  be 
made."  Burns  was  a  dull  boy,  good  only  at  athletic 
exercises.  Goldsmith  spoke  of  himself  as  a  plant 
that  flowered  late.  Alfieri  left  college  no  wiser  than 
he  entered  it,  and  did  not  begin  the  studies  by  which 
he  distinguished  himself,  until  he  had  run  half  over 
Europe. 

Robert  Clive  was  a  dunce,  if  not  a  reprobate,  when 
a  youth,  but  always  full  of  energy,  even  in  badness. 
His  family,  glad  to  get  rid  of  him,  shipped  him  off  to 
Madras,  and  he  lived  to  lay  the  foundations  of  the 
British  power  in  India.  Napoleon  and  Wellington 
were  both  dull  boys,. not  distinguishing  themselves  in 
any  way  at  school.  Of  the  former  the  Duchess 
d'Abrantes  says  :  "He  had  good  health,  but  was  in 
other  respects  like  other  boys."  A  writer  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review  observes  that  the  Duke's  talents 
seem  never  to  have  developed  themselves,  until  some 
active  and  practical  field  for  their  display  was  placed 
immediately  before  him.  He  was  long  described  by 
his  Spartan  mother,  who  thought  him  a  dunce,  as 
only  "food  for  powder."  He  gained  no  sort  of  dis- 
tinction, either  at  Eton,  or  at  the  French  Military 
college  of  Angers.  It  is  not  improbable  that  a  com- 
petitive examination,  at  this  day,  might  have  excluded 
him  from  the  army. 


406  SELF-MADE    MEN. 

John  Howard,  the  philanthropist,  was  another 
illustrious  dunce,  learning  next  to  nothing  during  the 
seven  years  that  he  attended  school.  Stephenson,  as 
a  youth,  was  distinguished  chiefly  for  his  skill  at 
wrestling,  and  attention  to  his  work.  The  brilliant 
Sir  Humphrey  Davy  was  no  smarter  than  other  boys, 
and  his  teacher  said  he  could  never  discover  in  him 
the  faculties  by  which  he  became  so  distinguished. 
Watt,  too,  was  a  dull  scholar.  As  Dr.  Arnold  of 
Rugby  said,  the  difference  in  boys  is  more  in  energy 
than  in  talent.  The  dunce,  with  persistence  and  ap- 
plication, will  inevitably  get  ahead  of  the  smart  boy 
without  these  qualities.  Slow  but  sure,  generally 
wins  the  race.  The  position  of  boys  at  school  is 
oftener  reversed  in  after-life  than  otherwise,  because 
everything  which  comes  easy, — be  it  money  or  learn- 
ing,— goes  easy ;  while  that  which  is  only  acquired 
through  great  difficulty,  sticks,  being  held  with  a 
firmer  grip. 

It  is  also  a  little  remarkable  how  many  of  the 
world's  great  men  have  been  little  men.  "It  would 
be  a  curious  inquiry  how  far  the  distinctions  attained 
by  celebrated  men  have  been  owing  to  personal  insig- 
nificance. It  is  remarked  by  greyhound  fanciers  that 
a  well-formed,  compact-shaped  puppy  never  makes  a 
fleet  dog  ;  and  it  is  certain  that  many  a  loose-jointed, 
awkward,  and  clumsy  man,  as  well  as  many  a  hump- 
backed and  ugly-looking  one,  has  found  in  his  de- 
formity, as  Bacon  long  ago  remarked,  '  a  perpetual 
spur,  to  rescue  and  deliver  him  from  scorn.'  History 
is  full  of  examples  of  pigmies,  who,  tormented  by 
a  mortifying  consciousness  of  their  physical  inferi- 
ority, have  been  provoked  thereby  to  show  that  their 


SELF-MADE    MEN  407 

lack  of  flesh  and  blood  has  been  more  than  made  up 
to  them  in  brains.  Many  a  Lilliputian  in  body  has 
proved  himself  a  Brobdingnagian  in  intellect." 

When  Lord  Nelson  was  passing  over  the  quay  at 
Yarmouth  to  take  possession  of  the  ship  to  which  he 
had  been  appointed,  the  people  exclaimed,  "  Why 
make  that  little  fellow  captain  ?"  The  sneer  of  dis- 
paragement was  but  a  "  foregone  conclusion"  in  his 
own  mind,  and  he  thought  of  it  when  he  fought  the 
battles  of  the  Nile  and  Trafalgar.  Had  Bonaparte 
been  six  inches  higher,  says  Hazlitt,  it  is  doubtful 
whether  he  would  have  gone  on  that  disastrous  Rus- 
sian expedition,  or  whether  he  would  even  have  been 
First  Consul  or  Emperor.  It  was  the  nickname  of 
"  Little  Corporal "  that  probably  first  pricked  the 
sides  of  his  ambition,  and  stung  him  into  that  terrible 
activity  which  made  all  Europe  tremble. 

Nearly  all  of  the  poets,  and  many  of  the  greatest 
prose  writers  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  have  been 
little  men.  One  of  the  great  poets  of  Athens  was 
so  small  that  his  friend  fastened  lead  to  his  sandals  to 
prevent  his  being  toppled  over  or  blown  away.  Aris- 
totle, as  we  have  already  remarked,  was  a  pigmy  in 
person,  though  a  giant  in  intellect.  Of  Pope,  who 
was  so  small  and  crooked  as  to  be  compared  to  an  in- 
terrogation point,  Hazlitt  asks,  "  Do  we  owe 
nothing  to  his  deformity  ?  He  doubtless  soliloquized, 
1  Though  my  person  be  crooked,  my  verses  shall  be 
straight.' "  It  was  owing  doubtless,  in  some  degree,  to 
the  fact  that  he  could  boast  of  but  four  feet  and  six 
inches  in  stature,  that  the  phenomenon  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  the  Abbe  Galiani,  owed  his  vast 
and  solid  erudition. 


408 


SELF-MADE    MEN. 


Reader,  after  studying  all  these  good  examples, 
pluck  up  courage,  and  resolve  to  be  like  the  best  of 
them. 


PART   II. 


HAPPINESS  IN  SOCIAL  AND  FAMILY  LIFE. 


Happiness  is  our  being's  end  and  aim  ! 

ALEXANDER  POPE. 


There  is  a  gentle  element,  and  man 
May  breathe  it  "with  a  calm,  unruffled  soul, 
And  drink  its  living  waters  till  his  heart 
Is  pure; — and  this  is  human  happiness. 

N.  P.  WILLIS. 


A  man's  happiness  and  success  in  life  will  depend  not  so  much 
upon  what  he  has,  or  upon  what  position  he  occupies,  as  upon 
what  he  is,  and  the  heart  he  carries  into  his  position. 

PROF.  S.  J.  WILSOK. 


HAPPINESS. 


409 


HAPPINESS. 


"  Over  all  men  hangs  a  doubtful  fate, 
One  gains  by  what  another  is  bereft; 
The  frugal  deities  have  only  left 
A  common  bank  of  happiness  below, 
Maintained,  like  nature,  by  an  ebb  and  flow." 

— SIR  ROBERT  HOWARD. 


(APPINESS  consists  in  part  in  being  fortu- 
nate or  successful  in  business  life  ;  in  ac- 
quiring by  honorable  effort  and  legitimate 
methods  a  money  competence.  Good 
houses  to  live  in,  and  plenty  of  good  food 
and  clothing,  books,  pictures,  fine  horses 
and  carriages,  money  to  entertain  with,  or  to  travel 
with,  are  not  at  all  to  be  despised  by  one  who  seeks 
to  be  happy.  All  these  have  their  influence  on  a 
man's  spirits  and  temper,  and  in  providing  him  with 
suitable  opportunities  to  enjoy  what  are  called  the 
"  good  things  of  this  life." 

But  money  is  not  all,  nor  even  the  main  ingredient 
in  the  cup  of  happiness.  It  is  one  element,  we  ad- 
mit, but  only  one ;  for  there  are,  in  proportion,  as 
many  unhappy  rich  people  in  the  world,  as  poor  ones 
—if  not  more.  This,  however,  is  not  to  be  charged 
against  riches  so  much  as  to  those  who,  possessing 
riches,  do  not  know  how  to  use  them  properly.  Like 


410  HAPPINESS    DEFINED. 

almost  everything  else  in  the  world,  money  can  be 
made  to  contribute  to  human  happiness  or  misery 
with  equal  facility,  according  to  the  nature  and  dis- 
position of  him  who  handles  it.  We  need  many 
things  which  money  will  buy,  and  many  more  which 
money  cannot  buy.  And  what  these  things  are  we 
shall  in  this  part  of  our  work  proceed  to  enumerate. 

HAPPINESS  DEFINED. 

Bishop  Butler  was  right  in  defining  happiness  to 
be  a  "  state  of  congruity  (or  suitableness  and  har- 
mony) between  a  man's  nature  and  his  circumstances." 
This  definition  is  very  broad,  deep,  and  comprehen- 
sive, and  needs  a  little  unfolding  to  bring  out  its 
truthfulness  and  application.  First,  all  men  are  sur- 
rounded and  environed  in  this  life  by  a  network  of 
events,  persons,  and  things,  the  action  of  which  upon 
each  other  and  their  combined  relation  to  man  him- 
self, produces  what  we  call  circumstances.  These 
hem  a  man  in  on  every  side,  and  he  can  no  more  es- 
cape their  influence  than  a  ship  sailing  across  the 
ocean  can  escape  the  action  of  wind  and  tide.  These 
circumstances  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  a  man's 
happiness.  When  they  are  unpleasant,  restricting, 
cramping,  or  torturing,  it  will  be  very  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  for  human  nature  to  rise  superior  to  their 
power. 

Some  have  gone  so  far  as  to  assert  that  man  is  but 
the  sport  of  circumstances,  like  a  floating  slab  on  a 
tossing,  billowy  sea ;  that  he  is  dashed  about,  hither 
and  thither,  by  events  which  he  has  no  power  to  con- 
trol. Now,  if  this  were  literally  true,  it  would  be 


HAPPINESS    DEFINED.  411 

idle  to  talk  about  happiness,  one  way  or  the  other, 
for  it,  too,  like  the  events  which  surround  us,  would 
be  beyond  human  control.  But,  fortunately,  this  is 
not  the  case.  Circumstances  are  partly  under  as  well 
as  above  the  power  of  human  will.  Thus  a  man  can 
make  himself  rich  or  poor,  honored  or  disgraced, 
strong  or  sickly,  just  as  he  obeys  or  disregards  cer- 
tain laws  of  life.  If  he  gives  right  up  to  the  world 
and  exercises  no  will-power  of  his  own,  if  he  allows 
himself  to  be  tossed  on  life's  sea  like  a  helpless  and 
dismantled  wreck,  and  suffers  himself  to  be  moved 
about  by  every  wave  of  influence  which  will  be  sure 
to  break  over  him,  he  will  be  indeed  the  sport  of  cir- 
cumstances, and  will  only  know  what  happiness  is 
during  those  brief,  uncertain  intervals,  when  the  "sea 
is  calm,  and  the  sky  is  blue,"  and  the  winds  are  at 
rest.  But  if  he  does  this  and  suffers  on  account  of 
it,  he  has  only  himself  to  blame. 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  a  young  man  has  chosen 
his  occupation  in  life,  has  settled  down  to  his  work 
manfully,  and  with  a  determination  to  persevere  and 
be  industrious,  has  already  begun  to  prosper,  and,  in 
fact,  is  in  a  fair  way  of  becoming  rich  in  the  course  of 
time.  What  other  things  are  necessary,  besides  those 
already  mentioned  and  dwelt  upon,  to  make  him  as 
happy  as  he  will  be  successful  ?  How  shall  he  blend 
fortune  with  happiness  ? 

«  'Tis  not  in  book,  'tis  not  in  leaf, 
To  make  us  truly  blest, 
If  happiness  has  not  her  seat 
And  center  in  the  breast. 
We  may  be  wise,  or  rich,  or  great, 
But  never  can  be  blest." — BURNS. 


412  PERMANENTLY    HAPPY    STATE. 

There  are  many  other  interests  to  look  after  which 
are  equally  as  important  as  mercantile  or  manufactur- 
ing interests,  and  he  must  not  neglect  these,  any- 
more than  material  values. 


PERMANENTLT  HAPPT  STATE. 

In  order  to  create  a  permanently  happy  state, 
speaking  on  general  principles,  a  man  must  first  do 
his  best  to  surround  himself  with  a  set  of  circumstan- 
ces which  shall  be  agreeable,  and  pleasant,  and  then 
try  to  cultivate  those  qualities  of  mind  and  heart 
*  which  shall  not  only  make  him  peaceful  and  joyful  in 
himself,  but  adapted  to,  and  contented  with,  his  sur- 
roundings. There  are  multitudes  of  persons  be- 
tween whose  natures  and  whose  environments  there 
is  perpetual  war.  They  want  one  thing,  and  circum- 
stances compel  them  to  take  up  with  another,  vastly 
inferior  or  entirely  different ;  and  rather  than  submit 
to  that  which  they  do  not  like  or  choose,  they  keep 
up  a  continual  fight  which  makes  continual  discord. 
Of  course,  there  is  no  happiness  for  such,  unless  they 
are  strong  enough  to  change  the  conditions  of  their 
life,  make  them  more  consonant  with  their  feelings, 
or  unless  they  cultivate  those  essential  qualities  of 
heart  and  habits  of  thinking,  which  will  bring  them 
into  a  state  of  harmony  with  their  surroundings.  In 
some  cases,  and  especially  with  the  aged,  either  of 
these  alternatives  are  practically  impossible,  and  con- 
sequently they  must  look  for  their  happiness  in  that 
"brighter  sphere,  where  all  will  be  made  plain  that  so 
puzzles  us  here." 

But  with  young  people,  who  have  the  greater  part 


PERMANENTLY    HAPPY    STATE.  413 

of  life  yet  before  them,  there  is  no  need  of  settling 
.down  into  a  hopeless  misery  or  permanent  unhap- 
piness,  when  an  opposite  state  can  be  enjoyed  just  as 
easily.  Hence  it  makes  all  the  difference  between 
happiness  and  misery,  in  a  majority  of  cases,  whether 
people  start  out  in  life  with  right  or  wrong  ideas 
upon  the  nature  of  the  object  to  be  gained.  To  be 
forewarned,  is  usually  to  be  forearmed  against  pos- 
sible disaster,  and  hence  we  put  this  book  into  your 
hands,  reader,  as  a  sort  of  general  guide  to  fortune, 
happiness,  and  heaven.  There  are  thousands  upon 
thousands  who  are  seeking  happiness  by  wrong 
methods,  and  their  mistakes  are  not  only  costly  and 
dangerous  to  themselves,  but  they  exert  a  reactionary 
influence  upon  others,  as  bad  ;  consequently,  he  who 
may  be  able  by  wise  counsel,  sound  reasoning,  and 
apposite  illustration,  to  increase  the  amount  of  hap- 
piness in  any  single  mind,  may  be  justly  set  down  as 
a  true  benefactor  of  his  kind.  For  real  happiness  is 
to  be  won  at  last,  if  ever  won  at  all,  through  wise  and 
deliberate  choice  and  persistent  course  of  conduct, 
rather  than  by  any  lucky  experiment  or  accidental 
discovery. 


4M  HEALTH* AND    HAPPINESS. 


HEALTH  AND  HAPPINESS. 


"  We  are  not  ourselves 

When  nature,  being  oppressed,  commands  the  mind 
To  suffer  with  the  body," 

— SHAKESPERE. 

"  To  the  strong  hand  and  strong  head,  the  capacious  lungs 
and  vigorous  frame,  fall,  and  will  always  fall,  the  heavy  burdens; 
and  where  the  heavy  burdens  fall,  the  great  prizes  fall,  too." 

— LAWS  OF  LIFE. 


'HE  first  element  of  happiness  is  good 
health,  or  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound  body. 
Man  is  an  animal,  as  well  as  an  immortal, 
and  as  long  as  he  stays  on  earth  he  cannot 
be  indifferent  to  the  condition  of  his  ani- 
mal nature,  and  expect  either  to  be  suc- 
cessful or  happy.  To  be  sick,  weak,  feeble,  emaciated, 
run  down,  dyspeptic,  or  nervously  exhausted,  is  to  be 
good  for  nothing,  except  to  be  miserable. 

Time  was  when  the  body  was  looked  upon  as  a 
sort  of  drag  upon  the  mind,  and  was  treated  as  some- 
thing which  a  man  had  to  carry  around  with  him,  like 
a  burden.  The  old  religious  ascetics,  who  lived  in 
caves,  and  in  mountains  and  deserts,  used  to  torture 
and  crucify  their  bodies  under  the  erroneous  impres- 
sion that  they  were  thereby  making  themselves  more 


CULTURE    OF    THE    BODY.  415 

spiritually-minded  and  more  acceptable  to  God. 
Even  as  good  a  fnan  as  Pascal  once  said  that  "  dis- 
ease was  the  natural  state  of  Christians."  A  more 
blasphemous  utterance  never  was  written  or  spoken  ; 
still,  that  was  the  common  idea  among  certain  classes 
and  orders  of  the  Romish  Church  at  that  time,  and  is 
to  this  day.  Burton's  idea,  however,  comes  much 
nearer  the  truth,  when  he  says  :  "  The  body  is  the 
domicil  or  home  of  the  mind  ;  and,  as  a  torch  gives  a 
better  light,  a  sweeter  smell,  according  to  the  matter 
it  is  made  of,  so  doth  our  soul  perform  all  her  actions, 
better  or  worse,  as  her  organs  are  disposed ;  or,  as 
wine  savors  of  the  cask  wherein  it  is  kept,  the  soul 
receives  a  tincture  from  the  body,  through  which  it 
works."  Rev.  Dr.  J.  W.  Alexander  used  to  say,  when 
asked  whether  he  enjoyed  religion,  "  I  think  I  do, 
except  when  the  wind  is  in  the  east." 

CULTURE  OF  THE  BODT. 

In  like  manner,  it  used  to  be  thought  proper  to 
wholly  neglect  the  care  and  culture  of  the  body  in 
systems  of  education.  The  model  student  was  often 
pale,  puny,  lean,  and  lank,  "consumptive  or  dyspeptic, 
desiring  to  be  all  brain  and  soul.  But  this  idea  is 
now  pretty  well  exploded,  and  physical  culture  re- 
ceives its  due  share  of  attention  at  almost  all  colleges 
and  other  institutions  for  intellectual  training.  It  has 
been  well  said  that  to  cultivate  a  man's  physical  pow- 
ers exclusively,  is  to  make  of  him  an  athlete  or  a 
savage  ;  to  consider  the  moral  only,  is  to  make  a  man 
an  enthusiast,  a  fanatic,  or  a  monomaniac  ;  the  intel- 
lectual only,  and  you  have  a  diseased,  inefficient  the- 


41 6  JUVENILE    VITALITY. 

orist.  Elihu  Burritt  found  hard  work  necessary  to 
enable  him  to  study  with  effect,  ani  more  than  once 
he  gave  up  school-keeping  and  study,  and,  taking  to 
his  leather  apron  again,  went  back  to  his  blacksmith's 
forge  and  anvil  for  his  health  of  body  and  mind's 
sake. 

Milton  described  himself  as  up  and  stirring  early  in 
the  morning  :  "  In  winter,  often  ere  the  sound  of  any 
bell  wakes  man  to  labor  or  devotion  ;  in  summer,  as 
oft  with  the  bird  that  first  rouses,  or  not  much  tardier, 
to  read  good  authors,  or  to  cause  them  to  be  read  till 
the  attention  be  ready,  or  memory  have  its  full 
fraught ;  then,  with  clear  and  generous  labor,  preserv- 
ing the  body's  health  and  hardiness,  to  render  light- 
some, clear,  and  not  lumpish  obedience  to  the  mind 
for  the  cause  of  religion  and  our  country's  liberty." 
In  his  "Tractate  on  Education,"  he  recommends  the 
physical  exercise  of  fencing  to  young  men,  as  calcu- 
lated to  "  keep  them  healthy,  nimble,  strong,  and  well 
in  breath,  and  also  as  the  likeliest  means  to  make 
them  grow  large  and  tall,  and  inspire  them  with  a 
gallant  and  fearless  courage ;  and  he  further  urges 
that  they  should  "  be  practiced  in  all  the  locks  and 
grips  of  wrestling,  wherein  Englishmen  were  wont  to 
excel." 

JUVENILE    VITALITT 

The  marvelous  and  juvenile  vitality  of  Lord 
Palmerston  was  long  a  matter  of  surprise.  But  it 
was  owing  to  his  pride  and  pleasure  as  a  youth  to  be 
the  best  rower,  runner,  and  jumper ;  to  be  first  in  the 
sports  of  the  field  as  he  was  first  in  the  senate  ,  and 


JUVENILE    VITALITY.  417 

his  horse  and  gun  were  invariably  resorted  to  in  his 
hours  of  relaxation.  Sir  Walter  Scott,  when  attend- 
ing the  University  at  Edinburgh,  though  he  went  by 
the  name  of  "  The  Great  Blockhead,"  was,  notwith- 
standing his  lameness,  a  remarkably  healthy  youth, 
and  could  spear  a  salmon  with  the  best  fisher  on  the 
Tweed,  or  ride  a  wild  horse  with  any  hunter  in  Yar- 
row. When  devoting  himself  in  after  life  to  literary 
pursuits,  Sir  Walter  never  lost  his  taste  for  field 
sports,  but  while  writing  "  Waverly"  in  the  morning, 
he  would  in  the  afternoon  course  hares.  Professor 
Wilson  was  a  very  fine  athlete,  as  great  at  throwing 
the  hammer  as  in  his  flights  of  eloquence  and  poetry ; 
and  Burns,  when  a  youth,  was  remarkable  chiefly  for 
his  leaping,  putting,  and  wrestling.  Some  of  the 
greatest  divines  were  distinguished  in  their  youth  for 
their  physical  energies.  Isaac  Barrow,  when  at  Char- 
terhouse School,  was  notorious  for  his  pugilistic 
encounters,  in  which  he  got  many  a  bloody  nose  ; 
Andrew  Fuller,  when  working  as  a  farmer's  lad  at 
Soham,  was  chiefly  famous  for  his  skill  in  boxing; 
and  Adam  Clarke,  when  a  boy,  was  only  remarkable 
for  the  strength  displayed  by  him  in  "  rolling  large 
stones  about" — the  secret,  possibly,  of  some  of  the 
power  which  he  subsequently  displayed  in  rolling 
forth  thoughts  in  his  manhood. 

In  fact,  success  and  happiness  in  life  depend  much 
more  upon  physical  health  than  is  generally  imagined. 
Hodson,  of  Hodson's  Horse,  writing  home  to  a  friend 
in  England,  said :  "  I  believe,  if  I  get  on  well  in 
India  it  will  be  owing,  physically  speaking,  to  a  sound 
digestion. '*  The  capacity  for  continuous  working  in 
any  calling  must  necessarily  mainly  depend  upon  this, 


41  8  JUVENILE   VITALITY. 

and  hence  the  necessity  for  attending  to  health,  even 
as  a  means  of  intellectual  labor  itself.  It  is  in  no 
slight  degree  to  the  boating  and  cricketing  sports, 
still  cultivated  at  the  best  public  schools  and  universi- 
ties of  England,  that  they  produce  so  many  speci- 
mens of  healthy,  manly,  and  vigorous  men,  of  the 
true  Hodson  stamp.  It  is  said  that  the  Duke  of 
Wellington,  when  once  looking  at  the  boys  engaged 
in  their  sports  on  the  playground  at  Eton,  where  he 
had  spent  his  own  juvenile  days,  made  the  pregnant 
remark  :  "  It  was  there  that  the  battle  of  Waterloo 
was  won." 

The  body  has  some  rights  of  its  own,  although  it 
be  a  slave  to  the  nobler  faculties  of  our  being,  and 
when  this  slave  is  abused  for  any  length  of  time,  he 
will  invariably  rise  up  against  and  smite  his  master. 
The  man  who  sleeps  the  soundest  and  digests  his 
dinner  with  the  least  difficulty,  will,  other  things 
being  equal,  win  the  most  prizes  in  life,  and  be  the 
most  good-natured  and  happy  about  it.  A  popular 
lecturer  has  lately  said  that  "  it  is  now  generally  con- 
ceded that  there  is  an  organization,  which  we  call  the 
nervous  system,  in  the  human  body,  to  which  belong 
the  functions  of  emotion,  intelligence,  and  sensation, 
and  that  this  is  connected  intimately  with  the  whole 
circulation  of  the  blood,  with  the  condition  of  the 
blood  as  affected  by  the  liver,  and  by  aeration  in  the 
lungs  ;  that  the  manufacture  of  the  blood  depends 
upon  the  stomach ;  so  a  man  is  what  he  ts,  not  in  one 
part  or  another,  but  all  over ;  one  part  is  intimately 
connected  with  the  other,  from  the  animal  stomach  to 
the  throbbing  brain  ,  and  when  a  man  thinks,  he 
thinks  the  whole  trunk  through. 


MANS    POWER.  419 

MAN'S  POWER. 

"  Man's  power  comes  from  the  generating  forces  that 
are  in  him,  namely,  the  digestion  of  nutritious  food 
into  vitalized  blood,  made  fine  by  oxygenation  ;  an 
organization  by  which  that  blood  has  free  course  to 
flow  and  be  glorified  ;  a  neck  that  will  allow  the  blood 
to  run  up  and  down  easily ;  a  brain  properly  organ- 
ized and  balanced  ;  the  whole  system  so  compounded 
as  to  have  susceptibilities  and  recuperative  force ;  im- 
mense energy  to  generate  resources,  and  facility  to 
give  them  out — all  these  elements  go  to  determine 
what  a  man's  working  power  is."  Intellect  in  a  weak 
body  is  "like  gold  in  a  spent  swimmer's  pocket,"  or 
like  a  granary  to  which  there  is  no  key. 

Referring  to  the  ancients  again,  it  is  a  singular 
fact  that  before  the  dawn  of  t!.2  Christian  era,  the 
philosophers  and  orators,  warriors  and  great  men  of 
Greece  and  Rome  devoted  a  great  deal  of  attention 
to  the  culture  and  maintenance  of  physical  vigor.  It 
is  told  of  Cicero  that  he  became  at  one  time  the  vic- 
tim of  that  train  of  maladies  expressed  by  the  word 
" dyspepsia" — maladies  which  pursue  the  indolent 
and  the  overworked  man  as  the  shark  follows  in  the 
wake  of  the  plague-ship.  The  orator  hastened,  not 
to  the  physicians  who  might  have  hastened  his 
death,  but  to  Greece  ;  flung  himself  into  the  gymna- 
sium ;  submitted  to  its  regimen  for  two  entire  years  ; 
and  returned  to  the  struggles  of  the  forum  as  vigor- 
ous as  the  peasants  that  tilled  his  farm.  Who  doubts 
that  by  this  means  his  periods  were  rounded  out  to  a 
more  majestic  cadence,  and  his  crushing  arguments 
clinched  with  a  tighter  grasp  ?  Had  he  remained  a 


42O  MAN  S    POWER. 

dyspeptic,  he  might  have  written  beautiful  essays  on 
old  age  and  friendship,  but  he  never  would  have 
pulverized  Catalirie,  or  blasted  Marc  Antony  with  his 
lightnings. 

So  the  intellectual  power  of  those  giants  of  an- 
tiquity, Aristotle  and  Plato,  was  owing  in  a  large 
degree  to  that  harmonious  education  in  which  the 
body  shared  as  well  as  the  mind.  That  the  one 
ruled  the  world  of  thought  down  to  the  time  of 
Bacon,  and  that  the  other  is  stimulating  and  quicken- 
ing the  mind  of  the  nineteenth  century,  is  owing  in 
part  to  the  fact  that  they  were  not  only  great 
geniuses,  but,  as  one  has  well  said,  geniuses  most 
happily  set,  and  that  no  dyspepsia  broke  the  harmony 
of  their  thought,  no  neuralgia  twinged  the  system 
with  agony,  and  no  philosopher's  ail  infected  the 
throat  with  bad  blood,  or  an  ulcerated  mucous 
membrane. 

Coming  back  to  our  own  time,  we  find  that  nature 
presented  our  Websters,  Clays,  and  Calhouns,  not 
only  with  extraordinary  minds,  but — what  has  quite 
as  much  to  do  with  the  matter — with  wonderful 
bodies.  Above  all,  our  Grants,  Shermans,  and  Sheri- 
dans,  what  would  they  be  without  nerves  of  whip- 
cord, and  frames  of  iron  ?  The  tortures  of  hereditary 
disease,  united  with  the  pangs  of  fever,  wrung  from 
Napoleon  in  one  of  the  most  critical  days  of  his  his- 
tory, the  exclamation  that  the  first  requisite  of  good 
generalship  is  good  health.  The  efficiency  of  the 
common  soldier,  too,  he  knew  depended,  first  of  all, 
upon  his  being  in  perfect  health  and  splendid  condi- 
tion ;  and  hence  he  tried  to  bring  up  all  his  troops  to 
the  condition  of  pugilists  when  they  fight  for  the 


LAWS    OF    HEALTH  421 

championship.  This  was  the  secret  of  their  pro- 
digious efforts,  their  endurance  of  fatigue  that  would 
have  killed  common  men. 


LAWS  OF  HEALTH. 

Horace  Mann,  in  a  letter  of  advice  to  a  law 
student,  justly  remarks  that  a  spendthrift  of  health  is 
one  of  the  most  reprehensible  of  spendthrifts.  "  I 
am  certain,"  continues  he,  "  I  could  have  performed 
twice  the  labor,  both  better,  and  with  greater  ease  to 
myself,  had  I  known  as  much  of  the  laws  of  health 
and  life  at  twenty-one  as  I  do  now.  In  college  I  was 
taught  all  about  the  motions  of  the  planets,  as  care- 
fully as  though  they  would  have  been  in  danger  of 
getting  off  the  track  if  I  had  not  known  how  to  trace 
their  orbits  ;  but  about  my  own  organization,  and  the 
conditions  indispensable  to  the  healthful  functions  of 
my  own  body,  I  was  left  in  profound  ignorance. 
Nothing  could  be  more  preposterous.  I  ought  to 
have  begun  at  home,  and  taken  the  stars  when  it 
should  come  their  turn.  The  consequence  was,  I 
broke  down  at  the  beginning  of  my  second  college 
year,  and  have  never  had  a  well  day  since.  What- 
ever labor  I  have  since  been  able  to  do,  I  have  done 
it  all  on  credit  instead  of  capital — a  most  ruinous 
way,  either  in  regard  to  health  or  money.  For  the 
last  twenty-five  years,  so  far  as  regards  health,  I  have 
been  put,  from  day  to  day,  on  my  good  behavior ; 
and  during  the  whole  of  this  period,  as  an  Hibernian 
would  say,  if  I  had  lived  as  other  folks  do  for  a 
month,  I  should  have  died  in  a  fortnight."  Health 


422  REST   AND    RECREATION. 

is  a  combination  of  sleep,  dress,  cleanliness,  diet,  exer- 
cise, and  right  condition  of  mind. 

REST  AND  RECREATION. 

Happiness  not  only  requires  a  state  of  general 
good  health,  but  good  health  requires  periods  of  rest 
and  recreation,  as  well  as  steady  labor.  .  Nearly  every 
observant  writer,  thinker,  or  traveler,  is  remarking 
upon  the  fact  that  the  majority  of  people  in  this 
country  are  killing  themselves  by  inches  in  making 
their  life  "  all  work  and  no  play ;"  running  one  cease- 
less round  of  toil,  with  no  seasons  of  rest  and  relaxa- 
tion, other  than  those  which  come  necessarily.  And 
without  doubt  there  is  much  of  pertinence  and  force 
in  this  representation.  One  has  only  to  look  around, 
or  possibly  look  within,  to  be  convinced  of  the  fact 
that  large  numbers  of  people  are  dragging  themselves 
down  to  death  by  overwork,  just  to  gratify  an  insati- 
ite  ambition  to  be  richer  and  greater  than  Mr.  A.  or 
Mrs.  B.  who  live  over  the  way. 

Says  Dn  Mathews  :  "  Of  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  there  is  no  one  among  whom  this  doctrine  of 
'  grind '  has  taken  deeper  root  than  among  us  Ameri- 
cans, From  the  days  of  the  Puritans  we  have  been 
excessively  fond  of  work, — work,  not  as  a  means  of 
getting  a  living  only,  but  in  itself,  and  for  its  own 
sake.  It  seems  as  if  we  felt  the  primeval  curse  ever 
weighing  upon  us,  and  so  we  continue  to  drudge  like 
galley-slaves,  even  after  we  have  provided  for  the 
ever-dreaded  '  rainy  day,'  and  the  pressure  of  bread- 
getting  has  long  since  passed.  Hence  we  have  so 
few  holidays  and  seasons  of  rest  and  recreation,  that, 


OVERWORK.  423 

when  they  do  come,  we  are  perplexed  to  know  what 
to  do  with  ourselves. 

"  It  is  time  that  this  everlasting  drudgery  should 
cease  among  us,  and  that  some  higher  lessons  should 
be  impressed  upon  the  brain  of  the  infantile  Yankee 
than  the  old  saws  about  industry,  money-getting,  and 
the  like.  Let  us  abate  something,  at  least,  of  our 
devotion  to  the  almighty  dollar,  and  regard  the  world 
as  something  better  than  a  huge  workshop,  in  which 
we  are  to  toil  and  moil  unceasingly,  till  death  stops 
the  human  machine.  Let  us  learn  that  the  surest  and 
best  way  to  get  on  in  the  world  is  not  to  travel  by 
'  lightning  lines/  but  '  to  hasten  slowly.'  It  is  a  libel 
on  Providence  to  suppose  that  it  has  designed  that 
we  should  live  such  a  plodding,  mechanical  life,  that 
we  should  be  mere  mill-horses,  treading  evermore  the 
same  dull,  unvarying  round,  and  all  for  grist,  grist, 
still  grist,  till  we  have  become  as  blind  and  stupid  as 
that  most  unhappy  of  all  quadrupeds." 

OVERWORK. 

No  one  can  fail  to  have  noticed  the  number  of 
business  men  and  professional  men  who  die  suddenly 
every  year  from  apoplexy,  paralysis,  and  kindred 
complaints.  They  go  along  from  year  to  year,  work- 
ing a  little  harder  and  steadier  all  the  time,  because 
in  truth,  they  must,  in  order  to  keep  pace  with  their 
constantly  increasing  business,  pay  but  little  atten- 
tion to  the  demands  of  exhausted  nature,  or  an  over- 
tasked brain,  until  suddenly,  some  day,  they  fall 
down  as  though  they  had  been  shot,  and  without 
warning  or  preparation,  they  are  ushered  into  an- 


424  OVERWORK. 

other  world.  A  proper  verdict  in  all  such  cases 
would  be  :  Suicide  from  overwork. 

Dean  Swift,  who  was  a  great  mental  worker,  gazing 
upon  a  noble  oak  whose  topmost  branches  had  been 
withered  by  lightning,  mournfully  exclaimed,  "  I  shall 
be  like  that  tree  ;  I  shall  die  a-top."  He  had  been 
afflicted  for  years  with  giddiness  and  pain  in  the 
head,  looked  forward  with  prophetic  dread  to  in- 
sanity as  the  portion  of  his  later  life,  and  sure 
enough,  it  came  at  last ;  he  died  as  he  had  feared,  the 
inmate  of  an  asylum.  When  Leyden,  a  Scotch  enthu- 
siast, was  warned  by  his  physician  of  the  consequences, 
if  he  continued  while  ill  with  a  fever  and  liver-com- 
plaint, to  study  ten  hours  a  day,  he  coolly  replied : 
"  Whether  I  am  to  live  or  die,  the  wheel  must  go 
round  to  the  last.  ...  I  may  perish  in  the  at- 
tempt, but  if  I  die  without  surpassing  Sir  William 
Jones  a  hundred-fold  in  Oriental  learning,  let  never  a 
tear  for  me  profane  the  eye  of  a  borderer."  No 
wonder  that  he  sank  into  his  grave  in  his  thirty-sixth 
year,  the  victim  of  self-murder. 

Alexander  Nicolly,  a  professor  of  Hebrew  at  Ox- 
ford, who,  it  is  said,  could  walk  to  the  wall  of  China 
without  an  interpreter,  died  a  few  years  ago  at  the 
same  age,  chiefly  from  the  effects  of  intense  study  ; 
and  Dr.  Alexander  Murray,  a  similar  prodigy,  died  at 
thirty-eight  of  the  same  cause.  Sir  Humphrey  Davy, 
in  the  height  of  his  fame,  nearly  killed  himself  by 
the  excessive  eagerness  with  which  he  prosecuted  his 
inquiries  into  the  alkaline  metals,  pursuing  his  labors 
in  the  night  till  three  or  four  o'clock,  and  even  then 
often  rising  before  the  servants  of  the  laboratory.  Ex- 
cessive application  threw  Boerhave  into  a  delirium  for 


OVERWORK.  425 

six  weeks  ;  it  gave  a  shock  to  the  powerful  frame  of 
Newton  ;  it  cut  short  the  days  of  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
and  it  laid  in  the  grave  the  celebrated  Weber,  whose 
mournful  exclamation,  amid  his  multiplied  engage- 
ments, is  familiar  to  many  an  admirer  of  his  weird- 
like  music:  "  Would  that  I  were  a  tailor,  for  then  I 
should  have  a  Sunday's  holiday." 

It  was  the  same  cause  that  struck  down  Sir  Wil- 
liam Hamilton  in  his  fifty-sixth  year  with  paralysis, 
and  ended  the  life  of  the  most  brilliant  and  influential 
of  American  journalists,  H.  J.  Raymond,  in  a  cerebral 
crash  at  the  early  age  of  forty-nine.  The  effects  of 
such  toil  in  this  country  are  far  more  disastrous  than 
in  Europe,  for,  owing  to  climate  and  other  agencies, 
work  of  every  kind  is  more  exhausting  here  than 
there.  It  is  related  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  that  when 
at  Frankfort,  he  was  advised  by  the  celebrated 
printer,  Languet,  not  to  neglect  his  health  during  his 
studies,  "  lest  he  should  resemble  a  traveler  who, 
during  a  long  journey,  attends  to  himself  but  not  to 
his  horse." 

All  this  is  especially  true  of  the  dwellers  and  work- 
ers in  large  cities.  No  one  unacquainted  with  the 
facts  can  have  any  idea  of  the  almost  insupportable 
pressure  which  each  day  brings  to  bear  upon  the 
brain  of  one  who  aspires  to  be  a  leading  lawyer,  mer- 
chant, or  business  man  of  any  kind,  in  a  great  city. 
As  has  been  truly  said,  "  Anxious  and  perplexing 
thought  sits  on  his  brow  as  he  rubs  his  eyes  at  day- 
break ;  hurrying  to  the  breakfast  table,  he  swallows 
his  steak  and  his  coffee  in  a  twinkling,  jumps  from  his 
chair  almost  immediately,  and  without  having  spoken 
a  pleasant  word,  hastens  away  to  the  high  courts  of 


426  SOMETHING    BETTER. 

Mammon,  to  engage  in  the  sharp  struggle  for  pelf. 
There  he  spends  hour  after  hour  in  calculating  how 
to  change  his  hundreds  to  thousands  ;  dinner  and 
supper, — which  he  bolts,  never  eats, — come  and  go 
almost  without  observation  ;  even  nightfall  finds  him 
still  employed,  with  body  and  mind  jaded,  and  eyes 
smarting  with  sleeplessness  ;  till  at  length,  far  in  the 
night,  the  toil-worn  laborer  seeks  his  couch,  only  to 
think  of  the  struggles  and  anxieties  of  the  day,  or  to 
dream  of  those  of  to-morrow."  Thus  matters  go  on 
for  a  few  feverish  years,  when  he  breaks  down 
utterly,  is  obliged  to  go  off  to  Europe,  or  is  confined 
to  his  home,  and  at  last  dies  a  wretched,  miserable, 
broken-down  man.  Where  is  the  sense  or  the  wis- 
dom or  the  happiness  in  a  life  of  this  sort  ? 

SOMETHING  BETTER. 

There  is  something  better  than  a  life-long  sacrifice 
of  content  and  enjoyment  for  a  possible  wealth, 
which,  however,  may  never  be  acquired,  and  which 
has  not  the  power,  when  won,  to  yield  its  holder  the 
boon  which  he  expects  it  to  purchase.  To  withhold 
from  the  frugal  wife  the  gown  she  desires,  to  deny 
her  the  journey  which  would  do  so  much  to  break  up 
the  monotony  of  her  home-life,  to  rear  children  in 
mean  ways,  to  shut  away  from  the  family  life  a 
thousand  social  pleasures,  to  relinquish  all  amuse- 
ments that  have  a  cost  attached  to  them,  for  wealth 
which  may  or  may  not  come  when  the  family  life  is 
broken  up  forever, — surely,  this  is  neither  sound  en- 
terprise nor  wise  economy.  We  would  not  have  the 
American  laborer,  farmer  and  mechanic  become  im- 


SOMETHING   BETTER.  427 

provident  but  we  would  very  much  like  to  see  them 
happier  than  they  are  by  resort  to  the  daily  social 
enjoyments  which  are  always  ready  to  their  hand. 
Nature  is  strong  in  the  young,  and  they  will  have  so- 
ciety and  play  of  some  sort.  It  should  remain  strong 
in  the  old,  and  does  remain  strong  in  them,  until  it  is 
expelled  by  the  absorbing  and  subordinating  passion 
for  gain 

•  Something  of  the  Old  World  fondness  for  play^ 
and  daily  and  weekly  indulgence  in  it,  should  become 
habitual  among  our  workersc  Toil  would  be  sweeter 
if  there  were  a  reward  at  the  end  of  it ;  work  would 
be  gentler  when  used  as  a  means  for  securing  a  pleas- 
ure which  stands  closer  than  an  old  a*ge  of  ease  ; 
character  would  be  softer  and  richer  and  more  child- 
like, when  acquired  among  genial,  everyday  delights. 
The  all-subordinating  strife  for  wealth,  carried  on 
with  fearful  struggles  and  constant  self-denials;  makes 
us  petty,  irritable,  and  hard.  When  the  whole 
American  people  have  learned  that  a  dollar's  worth 
of  pure  pleasure  is  worth  more  than  anything  else 
under  the  sun  ;  that  working  is  not  living,  but  only 
the  means  by  which  we  win  a  living  ;  that  money  is 
good  for  nothing  except  for  what  it  brings  of  comfort 
and  culture ;  and  that  we  live  not  in  the  future,  but 
in  the  present,  they  will  be  a  happy  people, — happier 
and  better  than  they  have  been.'5 

It  is  truly  a  sad  sight  to  see  a  human  being  in 
whom  the  impulse  and  disposition  for  play  has  died 
out.  Sad  to  see  a  man  or  a  woman  get  so  accus- 
tomed to  the  routine  of  labor  that  they  cannot  break 
it  off  to  indulge  in  any  kind  of  recreation  or  amuse- 
ment. A  man  begins  life  with  an  overflow  of  vitality 


428  *  SLEEE 

and  animal  spirits  which  makes  him  bright,  genial, 
and  playful.  He  sympathizes  with  children,  plays 
with  brutes,  enjoys  society,  and  indulges  in  recreative 
exercises  of  mind  and  body.  Then  he  plunges  into 
business  and  works  away  for  twenty  years  or  more, 
and  finally  wakes  up  to  the  fact  that  there  is  no  in- 
terest in  life  to  him,  except  in  daily  toil 

While  work  is  necessary,  steady,  regular  work, 
work  up  to  the  full  measure  of  human  capacity,  yet 
seasons  of  rest  and  recreation  are  equally  essential. 
It  used  to  be  thought  that  the  time  spent  in  sleep 
was  comparatively  lost,  so  far  as  utility  was  con- 
cerned, but  happily  this  notion  is  no  longer  tenable. 
In  fact,  more  people  die  every  year  for  the  want  of 
sufficient  sleep,  than  from  hardly  any  other  single 
cause 

SLEEP. 

The  highest  medical  authorities  now  agree  that 
the  best  thing  for  a  man  to  do  when  he  feels  too 
weak  to  carry  anything  through,  is  to  go  to  bed  and 
sleep  as  long  as  he  can.  This  is  the  only  actual  re- 
cuperation of  brain  force ;  because,  during  sleep,  the 
brain  is  in  a  state  of  rest,  in  a  condition  to  receive 
and  appropriate  particles  of  nutriment  from  the 
blood,  which  take  the  place  of  those  which  have  been 
consumed  by  previous  labor,  since  the  very  act  of 
thinking  burns  up  solid  particles,  as  every  turn  of 
the  wheel  or  screw  of  the  steamer  is  the  result  of 
consumption  by  fire  of  the  fuel  in  the  furnace.  The 
supply  of  consumed  brain-substance  can  only  be  had 
from  the  nutritive  particles  in  the  blood,  which  were 
obtained  from  the  food  eaten  previously,  and  the 


SLEEP,  429 

brain  is  so  constituted  that  it  can  best  receive  and 
appropriate  to  itself  these  nutritive  particles  during 
the  state  of  rest  or  quiet  and  stillness  in  sleep. 
Mere  stimulants  supply  nothing  in  themselves;  they 
goad  the  brain  and  force  it  to  a  greater  consumption 
of  its  substance  until  it  is  so  exhausted  that  there  is 
not  power  enough  left  to  take  up  a  fresh  supply. 

With  regard  to  methods  and  kinds  of  recreation, 
each  one  must  judge  for  himself.  Some  are  rejuve- 
nated and  restored  by  a  simple  change  of  employment, 
others  must  indulge  in  some  innocent,  harmless  game 
or  play>  while  others  again  demand  total  quiet  The 
one  main  thing  to  be  looked  after  is,  that  the  change, 
or  quiet,  whichever  is  chosen,  shall  be  pleasant  and 
agreeable,  instead  of  forced  or  perfunctory.  What- 
ever a  person  loves  to  do,  is  done  with  far  less 
weariness  and  exhaustion  than  labor  which  is  felt  to 
be  a  drudgery.  But  neither  should  recreation,  on 
the  other  hand,  be  carried  to  excess,  since  play  or  ex« 
ercise  of  any  kind,  pursued  to  weariness,  is  just  as 
bad  as  overwork.  The  original  and  primal  fact  in 
this  matter  is,  that  there  is  only  about  so  much  physi- 
cal, mental  and  nervous  vitality  in  each  human 
system  to  begin  with,  and  when  this  amount  is  over- 
drawn, your  drafts  and  calls  for  more  power  go  to 
protest, — that  is,  are  not  responded  to.  In  fact, 
nature  keeps  as  strict  an  account  with  each  individual 
as  any  bank  would,  and  will  not  honor  demands  be- 
yond the  amount  of  strength  deposited  or  husbanded. 
But  the  only  funds  necessary  to  keep  the  amount 
good,  are  proper  seasons  of  rest  and  recreation, 
intermingled  with  a  generous  diet,  and  a  steady 
occupation. 


43° 


SOCIETY. 


SOCIETY. 


Without  good  company,  all  dainties 

Lose  their  true  relish,  and,  like  painted  grapes, 

Are  only  seen,  not  tastedo" 

— PHILIP  MASSINGER. 


(OCIETY  and  social  intercourse,  when  of  a 
proper  kind,  is  a  very  important  aid  to 
human  enjoyment  The  man  who  has  no 
society  becomes  morbid  in  his  feelings 
and  views,  sharp,  angular,  and  disagreeably 
peculiar  i-n  his  opinions,  grows  self-con- 
ceited, and  is  apt  to  fancy  himself  and  his  things  as 
the  center  of  the  universe  in  importance  and  value. 
And  when,  with  these  views,  he  attempts  to  make 
others  and  the  things  of  others  revolve  around  him 
and  his  own  affairs,  he  at  once  encounters  an  opposi 
tion  which  either  frightens  him  back  into  deeper  and 
closer  retirement,  or  else  arouses  in  him  an  honest 
but  ill-grounded  indignation,  which  makes  him  the 
laughing-stock  of  all  with  whom  he  attempts  to  deal. 
To  such  an  one  life  becomes  an  entirely  unsatisfac- 
tory, one-sided,  and  comparatively  useless  possession. 
Therefore,  all  should  cultivate  social  relations,  and 
thus  give  vent  to  the  social  instincts  of  their  natures. 
It  is  good  to  have  self  and  personal  cares  go  into  the 
background  occasionally,  and  let  the  interests  and 


CHEERFULNESS,  431 

welfare  of  others  come  to  the  front.  It  is  good  to 
measure  ourselves,  our  views,  feelings,  and  achieve- 
ments, by  the  lives  and  thoughts  of  those  about  us. 
There  is  also  real  culture  and  refinement  to  be  gained 
in  good  society  One  gets  the  sTiarp  angles  and 
rough  corners  of  his  nature  and  manners  taken  off ; 
he  acquires  a  degree  of  self-confidence ;  he  learns 
something  of  gentility  and  politeness  by  the  action 
and  influence  of  social  currents,  just  as  stones  on  the 
sea-beach  become  round,  smooth,  and  polished 
through  the  continued  friction  of  dashing  waves. 

CHEERFULNESS 

Says  S.  Co  Goodrich  :  "Of  all  virtues,  cheerfulness 
is  the  most  profitable"  It  makes  the  person  who  ex- 
ercises it  happy,  and  renders  him  acceptable  to  all  he 
meets.  While  other  virtues  defer  the  day  of  recom- 
pense, cheerfulness  pays  down.  It  is  a  cosmetic 
which  makes  homeliness  graceful  and  winning ;  it 
promotes  good  health,  and  gives  clearness  and  vigor 
to  the  mind  ;  it  is  the  bright  weather  of  the  heart  in 
contrast  to  the  clouds  of  gloom  and  melancholy/' 

Young,  bright,  and  healthful  natures  should  not 
allow  themselves  to  grow  morose,  churlish,  and  ill- 
natured,  by  self-isolation  from  social  enjoyments.  On 
the  contrary,  they  should  cultivate  a  genial,  cheerful 
spirit  and  temper.  Such  a  spirit  is  of  great  price  and 
of  great  power.  In  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice"  the 
dramatist  asks : 

K  Why  should  a  man  whose  blood  is  warm  within. 
Sit  like  his  grandsire,  cut  in  alabaster? 


432 


SYMPATHY. 


Sleep  when  he  wakes,  and  creep  into  Jaundice 
By  being  peevish?" 

And  to  such  a  question,  it  may  well  be  replied  : 
"  There  is  no  need  of  it."  Better  far  to  cultivate  a 
cheerful  social  nature,  whose  very  presence  carries 
sunshine  with  it  wherever  it  goes.  If  there  is  no  joy 
in  the  heart,  no  nobility  in  the  soul,  no  benevolence 
and  generosity  in  the  mind,  a  person's  whole  charac- 
ter will  soon  grow  as  cold  as  an  iceberg,  hard  as 
granite  rock,  and  as  bleak,  barren,  and  arid  as  the 
desert  of  Sahara. 

STMPATHT. 

There  is  no  trait  of  human  nature  which  is  more 
precious  and  valuable  than  a  quick  and  ready  sympa- 
thy with  the  joys  and  woes  of  others,  "  rejoicing  with 
those  that  do  rejoice,  and  weeping  with  those  that 
weep."  Sympathy  always  marks  the  true  man  and 
the  noble  nature.  And  why  should  we  not  be  sympa- 
thetic ?  The  world  is  a  unit  in  interests,  and  we  all 
stand  or  fall  together.  "  No  man  liveth  unto  himself, 
and  no  man  dieth  unto  himself."  Humanity  is  linked 
together  by  a  thousand  different  cords,  like  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  a  body.  The  foot  cannot  say  to  the 
hand,  I  have  no  need  of  thee,  nor  the  hand  to  the 
head,  I  have  no  need  of  thee.  Neither  can  any  one 
man  or  woman,  or  any  one  class  of  men  or  women, 
stand  apart  and  say  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  I  can 
get  along  without  your  help.  We  are  all  dependent 
upon  one  another  for  more  comforts  and  pleasures 
than  we  realize,  or  even  know  of,  Whittier  truly 
says  B 


SYMPATHYc  433 

"  Like  warp  and  woof,  all  destinies 

Are  woven  fast, 
Linked  in  sympathy,  like  the  keys 

Of  an  organ  vast; 
Pluck  but  one  thread,  and  the  web  ye  mar; 

Break  but  one 
Of  a  thousand  keys,  and  the  paining  jar 

Through  all  will  run." 

In  fact,  this  power  of  social  sympathy  marks  the 
line  of  broad  distinction  between  mankind  and  the 
lower  orders  of  being.  "  Though  the  lower  animals 
have  feeling,"  writes  the  eloquent  Dr0  Guthrie  of 
Scotland,  "  they  have  no  fellow-feeling.  Have  I  not 
seen  the  horse  enjoying  his  feed  of  corn  when  his 
yoke-fellow  lay  a-dying  in  the  neighboring  stall,  and 
never  turn  an  eye  of  pity  on  the  sufferer  ?  They 
have  strong  passions,  but  no  sympathy.  It  is  said 
that  the  wounded  deer  sheds  tears,  but  it  belongs  to 
man  only  to  divide  by  sympathy  another's  sorrows, 
and  double  another's  joys.  They  say  that  if  a  piano 
is  struck  in  a  room  where  stands  another  unopened 
and  untouched,  he  who  lays  his  ear  to  that  will  hear 
a  string  within,  as  if  touched  by  a  shadowy  spirit, 
sound  the  same  note ;  but,  more  strange  and  more 
glorious,  how  the  strings  of  one  heart  vibrate  to  those 
of  another."  Rev.  Henry  Clay  Trumbull,  preaching 
once  in  a  prison,  said  in  his  sermon,  that  the  only 
difference  between  himself  and  his  hearers  was  owing 
to  the  grace  of  God.  Afterward,  one  of  the  prisoners 
sent  for  him,  and  asked :  "  Did  you  mean  what  you 
said  about  sympathizing  with  us  ?  "  Being  assured 
that  the  utterance  was  genuine,  he  said  :  "  I  am  here 
for  life,  but  I  can  stay  more  contentedly  now  that  I 


434  GOOD    SOCIETY. 

know  I  have  a  brother  out  in  the  world."  It  is  said 
the  man  behaved  so  well  afterward  that  he  was  par- 
doned, and  that  he  died  in  the  last  war,  thanking  God 
to  the  last  for  the  preacher's  sympathy.  "  Happy 
then  is  the  man  who  has  that  in  his  soul  which  acts 
upon  others  as  April  airs  upon  violet  roots.  Gifts 
from  the  hand  are  silver  and  gold,  but  the  heart  gives 
that  which  neither  silver  nor  gold  can  buy.  To  be 
full  of  goodness,  full  of  cheerfulness,  full  of  sympa- 
thy, full  of  helpful  hope,  causes  a  man  to  move  on 
human  life  as  stars  move  on  dark  seas  to  bewildered 


mariners." 


GOOD  SOCIETT. 


It  is  not  enough  to  be  simply  social ;  in  order  to  be 
happy,  one  must  have  a  kind  of  society  which  ele- 
vates and  ennobles,  rather  than  that  which  depresses 
and  destroys.  'Tis  not  society  alone  which  blesses, 
but  good  society.  In  fact,  it  would  be  better  to  have 
none  at  all,  than  mingle  with  bad  companions.  For, 
just  as  the  tree-frog  is  said  to  take  on  the  color  of 
whatever  he  adheres  to  for  a  short  time,  being  dark- 
green  when  found  on  green  corn,  and  the  color  of 
white-oak  bark  when  attached  to  that  tree,  so  men 
and  women  generally  resemble  those  with  whom  they 
associate.  The  river  Thames  in  England  is  a  sweet 
and  pure  river  near  its  source,  but  before  it  gets 
through  the  city  of  London  it  has  been  loaded  'with 
sewers  and  drains  so  much  as  to  become  most 
foul  and  nauseating.  It  was  intended  that  the  river 
should  purify  the  sewers,  but  instead  of  that,  the 
sewers  have  corrupted  the  river.  So  it  is  with  pure 
minds  and  morals,  and  bad  company,, 


AVOID    EXCESS*  435 

The  wise  old  philosopher,  Pythagoras,  before  he 
admitted  any  one  into  his  school,  always  inquired 
into  the  character  of  his  associates  ;  and  from  this 
circumstance,  doubtless,  arose  the  modern  proverb, 
that  a  man  may  be  known  by  the  company  which  he 
keeps.  There  are  some  kinds  of  society  whose  influ- 
ence is  like  an  infectious  disease,  corrupting  all  who 
come  within  reach  of  it.  In  fact,  all  society  either 
lifts  up  or  drags  down,  according  to  its  character  and 
quality.  Bad  boys  have  ruined  many  a  lad  who 
would  otherwise  have  grown  up  to  be  a  useful  and 
honorable  man,  while  bad  women  have  slain  their  vic- 
tims by  thousands.  In  ancient  fable  there  was  a 
creature  whose  name  was  Circe.  She  was  represented 
as  living  in  a  beautiful  palace  on  an  island,  where 
were  flowers,  music,  and  many  other  attractions. 
Whoever  came  to  see  her,  as  a  guest,  she  first  feasted 
with  delicacies  and  wine,  then  touched  them  with  a 
wand  and  transformed  them  into  lions,  tigers,  wolves, 
swine,  or  some  other  kind  of  animal,  and  set  them 
adrift  to  roam  through  her  grounds.  Not  very  dis- 
similar to  this  is  the  effect  of  bad  female  society,  or 
bad  companions  of  either  sex,  upon  those  who  would 
be  virtuous,  noble,  and  true. 

AVOID  EXCESS. 

In  order  to  have  social  pleasures  contribute  to 
happiness,  they  must  not  be  pursued  to  excess. 
Many  people  become  so  infatuated  with  society  and 
social  intercourse,  that  they  are  perfectly  unhappy 
when  alone,  or  even  when  about  their  daily  business. 
In  fact,  when  this  delusion  gets  fast  hold  of  the  mind 


436  AVOID    EXCESS. 

all  work  is  turned  into  drudgery,  and  the  person  be 
comes  a  miserable  loiterer,  or  a  dissatisfied  grumbler 
and  complainer,  instead  of  an  active,  cheerful,  healthy, 
and  useful  worker  in  the  world's  great  hive  of  indus- 
try. This  is  a  wretched  perversion  of  a  noble  gift, 
and  a  pleasurable  privilege.  We  urge,  therefore,  that 
all  young  people  should  guard  themselves  in  this 
direction,  and  not  allow  the  love  of  society,  and 
especially  what  is  called  fashionable  society,  to  run 
away  with  them.  Whenever  a  person  finds  himself 
or  herself  wishing  to  be  in  gay  company  all  the  time, 
and  are  really  unhappy  when  not  in  it ;  whenever  the 
thought  of  being  alone,  or  of  being  obliged  to  work, 
strikes  a  dread  in  the  mind,  it  is  then  high  time  to 
order  "down  brakes"  on  the  indulgence  of  the  social 
propensity. 

There  is  hardly  any  form  of  dissipation  more  de- 
bilitating or  more  injurious  to  body,  mind,  and  heart, 
than  a  continual  round  of  parties,  balls,  and  evening 
entertainments.  Whenever  persons  get  into  such  a 
condition  of  mind  that  they  must  be  "  on  the  go  "  all 
the  time  in  order  to  enjoy  anything,  such  persons 
will  soon  find  themselves  "  on  the  go  "  toward  general 
ruin,  or,  at  best,  toward  practical  good-for-nothingness. 

While  society  is  good  by  way  of  spice  or  variety, 
while  it  has  many  noble  and  useful  functions  to  per- 
form in  the  development  and  refinement  of  human 
nature,  yet,  perverted  from  its  true  intent,  it  is 
changed  into  a  source  of  great  evil.  It  encourages 
and  necessitates  extravagance  in  dress  ;  it  includes 
late  hours  at  night,  which  should  be  given  up  to 
"tired  nature's  sweet  restorer,"  healthful  sleep;  it 
furnishes  an  occasion  for  calling  out  much  heart- 


AVOID  EXCESS.  437 

bitterness  in  the  line  of  envy  and  jealousy  between 
rivals  and  opponents,  and  serves  to  evoke  much 
hypocritical  dissembling  and  pretense  in  the  way  of 
friendship.  As  Cowper  says  • 

"  She  who  invites 

Her  dear  five  hundred  friends,  but  contemns  them  all, 
And  dreads  their  coming — what  can  they  less 
Than  shrug  and  grimace  to  hide  their  hate  of  her?" 

Such  society  as  this  is  a  curse,  and  the  less  one  has 
of  it,  the  better.  Sincerity  and  truthfulness  and  un- 
affected naturalness  and  ease,  are  the  only  social 
qualities  which  shine  with  steady  luster,  or  benefit  by 
their  attractive  light 


438 


FRIENDSHIP KINDS   OF    FRIENDSHIP 


FRIENDSHIP. 


«  O  the  tender  ties, 

Close  twisted  with  the  fibers   of  the  heart, 
Which  broken,  drain  the  soul  of  human  joy, 
And  make  it  pain  to  live." 

— EDWARD  YOUNG. 


IRIENDSHIP  is  the  very  beginning  of 
happiness  in  the  heart.  It  is  a  rare  and 
precious  plant,  and  is  found  in  its  purity 
and  power,  only  here  and  there  among  the 
hosts  of  men  and  women  who  dot  the 
earth's  surface  by  their  moving  forms  and 
faces.  Friendship  is  not  love,  but  something  finer 
and  more  divine.  It  does  not  co-exist  with  passion 
in  any  form,  while  love  always  contains  more  or  less 
of  the  passion  element.  Friendship  is  never  purely 
selfish,  as  love  frequently  is,  although  a  measure  of 
selfishness,  perhaps,  is  inseparable  from  all  things 
human.  But  the  nearest  thing  to  the  loves  and  joys 
of  the  angels  above,  is  the  earthly  friendship  of  two 
human  spirits. 

KINDS  OF  FRIENDSHIP. 

True  friendship  may  exist  between  two  persons,  or 
between  persons  and  pet  animals.  Very  often  two 
young  girls  become  attached  to  each  other  in  the 


KINDS   OF    FRIENDSHIP.  439 

ties  of  a  friendship  that  is  as  sweet  and  charming  as 
their  own  pure  and  fresh  natures.  Such  an  instance 
of  girlish  friendship  is  admirably  portrayed  in 
Dickens'  novel  called  "  Bleak  House,"  and  if  any 
one  wishes  to  follow  out  this  idea  of  girlish  friend- 
ship, they  cannot  find  a  richer  development  of  the 
theme,  than  in  that  splendid  work  of  fiction0  Such 
a  friendship  also  exists  between  brothers  and  sisters 
in  the  same  family.  There  has  frequently  been  the 
sweetest  and  purest  friendship  in  the  world  between 
the  hunter  and  his  dog,  between  the  rider  and  his 
horse,  and  between  children  and  pet  animals  at  home. 
For  example,  there  is  hardly  anything  more  beauti- 
ful in  the  way  of  friendship  than  the  feeling  which 
grows  up  between  the  Bedouin  Arab  of  the  desert 
and  his  splendid  steed  who  shares  the  same  tent 
with  his  master,  and  is  his  constant  companion  by 
night  and  by  day.  Of  course  they  do  not  belong  to 
the  same  grade  of  being,  although,  if  the  horse  could 
speak  the  same  language  as  his  master,  there  might 
not  be  such  a  wonderful  discrepancy  of  intelligence 
as  one  would  at  first  imagine.  But  each  is  "  all  the 
world  "  to  the  other,  and  they  learn  to  depend  upon 
each  other,  and  look  to  each  other  for  support  and 
sympathy,  until  their  lives  become  practically  blended 
and  inseparable.  To  a  like  extent  is  the  degree  of 
friendship  which  sometimes  exists  between  the  lone 
hunter  of  the  forest  and  his  faithful  dog,  who  shares 
his  joys  and  his  sorrows,  and  who  sustains  a  relation 
of  companionship  to  his  master,  almost  as  close  and 
vital  as  any  which  is  found  among  persons. 

But,   after   all,   the   primary    idea   and    import   of 
friendship  can  only  be  realized  between  two  human 


44O  NECESSARY    TO    FRIENDSHIP. 

spirits.  There  must  be  the  same  grade  of  being,  and 
something  approaching  equality  of  position  and  intel- 
ligence, before  soul  can  be  linked  with  soul  in  a  com- 
munity of  interest  and  sympathy.  Between  a  child 
and  a  pet  animal  at  home,  or  between  a  man  and  a 
horse,  there  can  be  no  perfect  means  of  communica- 
tion. One  party  has  no  gift  of  speech,  and  but  few 
signs  to  indicate  to  his  associate  what  is  passing 
within  ;  but  in  the  case  of  two  persons,  there  can  be, 
and  must  be,  the  most  perfect  interchange  of  thought 
and  feeling.  And  this  leads  me  to  speak  more  par- 
ticularly of  some  of  the  evident  requisites 

NECESSART  TO   FRIENDSHIP, 

Before  two  persons  can  become  firm  and  fast 
friends,  there  must  be  entire  honesty  and  sincerity  of 
heart.  Anything  like  sham  or  hypocrisy  in  either 
party  will  be  sure  to  be  detected  by  the  other,  and 
then  friendship  is  at  an  end.  It  is  not  necessary 
that  two  persons  should  see  exactly  alike  on  all 
points,  although  they  must  be  entirely  fair  with  each 
other,  and  able  to  keep  their  tempers  if  they  indulge 
in  much  argument  on  controverted  subjects.  Neither 
is  it  essential  that  both  parties  should  have  the  same 
mental  and  moral  characteristics,  in  order  to  be 
friends.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  better  that  each 
should  present  somewhat  of  a  contrast  to  the  other, 
and  that  each  should  be  able  to  see  in  the  other  just 
what  he  feels  himself  to  be  most  deficient  in.  In 
this  way  each  would  possess  a  kind  of  mental  and 
personal  magnet  which  would,  unconsciously,  yet 
powerfully,  attract  the  other  whenever  the  two  met 


NECESSARY    TO    FRIENDSHIP.  441 

Again,  each  party  must  have  a  deep  and  thorough 
regard  for  the  other,  before  real  friendship  can  exist. 
We  must  not  only  be  able  to  say  of  our  friends  that 
we  like  them,  but  also  that  we  value  them.  Their 
opinions  and  views  must  be  agreeable  to  us,  also  their 
ways  and  manners.  We  must  gfeatly  enjoy  their 
society  and  presence.  There  must  also  be  a  mutual 
disposition  to  aid  and  assist  each  other,  whenever 
circumstances  call  for  such  help.  And  in  no  case 
must  any  trickery  or  indifference  be  shown  in  times 
of  trial,  distress,  or  danger.  Should  either  party  fail 
the  other  at  a  time  when  the  need  of  true  friendship 
was  most  urgent,  it  would  be  very  likely  to  destroy 
the  very  root  of  the  friendship  itself. 

From  this  it  will  be  seen  that  perfect  confidence 
and  trust  in  each  other  are  absolutely  necessary  to 
the  existence  of  the  friendly  feeling.  There  must 
not  be  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  resting  on  the  minds 
of  either  in  regard  to  the  willingness  and  readiness  of 
the  other  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  help,  guide,  in- 
struct and  benefit,  to  the  full  measure  required  in 
cases  of  emergency.  There  must  further  be  the  ab- 
solute conviction  in  the  mind  of  each,  that  the  other 
could  not  and  would  not  do  anything  that  was  wrong 
in  regard  to  each  other's  welfare. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  why  we  stated  at  the  outset, 
that  friendship  was  a  rare  and  precious  plant.  It  is 
such,  most  emphatically.  There  are  but  few  speci- 
mens of  it  in  any  village,  town,  or  city.  It  grows  in 
no  ordinary  soil  It  must  spring  up  in  hearts  pecu- 
liarly adapted  to  its  cultivation  and  perpetuation. 
But  when  it  is  once  formed  and  ripened  into  a  grow- 
ing and  stable  emotion,  it  is  the  most  valuable  pos- 


442 


NECESSARY    TO    FRIENDSHIP. 


session  which  the  heart  can  receive  or  enjoy.    Hence 
Shakespere  very  wisely  and  beautifully  said, 

"The  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hooks  of  steel." 


HUMAN    LOVE.  443 


HUMAN  LOVE. 


"  New  hope  may  bloom, 
And  days  may  come 
Of  milder,  brighter  beam, 
But  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  Love's  young  dream." 

— MOORE. 


p  young  men  and  maidens  grow  up  and 
mature  in  thought  and  feeling,  there 
comes  to  them  a  time  when  a  new  joy 
breaks  in  upon  their  hearts,  like  a  tide 
from  a  distant  sea,  or  a  breath  from  a  fairer 
land.  Under  the  influence  of  this  strange,  sweet 
feeling,  the  world  begins  to  wear  a  new  aspect,  and 
life  takes  on  a  fuller  and  deeper  significance.  Cherish 
the  visit  of  this  heavenly  messenger  to  your  heart, 
for  such  he  will  prove  himself  to  be,  if  properly  en- 
tertained and  guarded,  and  kept.  Throw  not  away 
your  treasure  lightly,  but  keep  it  until  you  can  bestow 
it  worthily.  Its  presence  and  power  are  never  to  be 
regretted  unless  they  lead  you  into  folly,  shame,  and 
crime.  The  love  of  a  mother  !"  what  is  holier,  purer, 
or  stronger  ?  The  love  of  a  father  !  how  courageous 
and  deep  !  The  love  of  brother  and  sister !  how 
tender  and  true !  The  love  of  God  !  how  infinite 
and  all-embracing ! 


444  HlAlAN    LOVE, 

"  True  love's  the  gift  which  God  hath  given 
To  man  alone  beneath  the  heaven. 
Its  holy  flame  forever  burneth, 
From  heaven  it  came,  to  heaven  returneth0 
It  is  not  fantasy's  hot  fire, 
It  liveth  not  in  fierce  desire, 
It  is  the  secret  sympathy, 
The  silver  link,  the  silken  tie, 
Which  heart  to  heart,  and  mind  to  mind, 
In  body  and  in  soul  doth  bind." 

This  is  an  age  when  heart-life  is  apparently  dying 
out,  and  passion,  intense  business  rivalry,  cold,  heart- 
less ambition  or  intellectual  pre-eminence,  are  seeking 
with  desperate  energy  to  usurp  Love's  throne.  It 
were  well  if  the  fire  of  true  affection  were  kindled 
afresh  on  the  heart's  purer  altar.  There  is  plenty 
of  passion  in  society,  yea,  too  much  of  it ;  plenty  of 
jealousy  and  envy,  and  strife  after  social  pre-emi- 
nence, and  all  that,  but  where  is  the  good,  pure,  old- 
fashioned  love  between  persons  which  used  to  be 
seen  and  enjoyed?  Has  it  gone  as  a  dream  of  the 
past,  never  to  come  back  any  more,  or  is  it  a  purely 
mythical  or  imaginary  possession  ?  Or,  have  we  be- 
come so  intensely  civilized  as  not  to  need  such  an 
element  any  longer  ?  Several  things  conspire  to 
crush  out  or  keep  down  this  life  of  the  heart,  which 
is  a  life  of  sentiment,  of  beauty,  and  of  love. 

On  the  physical  and  material  side  of  life,  there  is 
the  race  after  wealth,  and  place,  and  power ;  a  race  so 
all  engrossing  as  to  absorb  every  energy  of  one's  be- 
ing ;  a  race,  in  the  heat  and  strife  of  which  every  green 
herb  of  love  in  the  heart  is  hopelessly  withered  or  con- 
sumed. No  blast  from  fiery  furnace  is  more  destruc- 
tive to  flowers  than  this  deadly  scramble  after  money 


HUMAN    LOVE.  445 

is  to  all  the  finer  and  nobler  feelings  of  the  soul.  How 
much  better  to  possess  less  outwardly,  and  be  in- 
finitely richer  within  !  In  its  reactive  influence,  at 
least,  one  thrill  of  genuine  love  in  the  soul  is  of  far 
more  value  than  any  amount  of  currency  in  the 
pocket.  And  as  a  nation  we  are  poor  in  this  life  of 
the  heart,  simply  because  we  are  all  so  nearly  crazy  to 
be  rich. 

On  the  intellectual  side  of  life  the  present  all  ab- 
sorbing interest  in  scientific  investigation  is  injuring 
this  life  of  the  heart.  For  science  by  its  very  nature 
can  only  deal  with  facts,  laws  and  forces,  and  so  it 
tends  inevitably  toward  intellectual  materialism.  It 
is  true,  there  are  facts  of  sentiment,  and  of  love,  and 
of  beauty,  as  there  are  of  geology  and  phil- 
osophy, still  the  scientist  as  such  confines  himself  in 
his  studies  almost  wholly  to  tangible  materials  and 
concrete,  practical  phenomena,  and  so  excludes  from 
his  thought  everything  of  an  immaterial  or  ideal 
character.  And  the  tendency  to  this  study  is  making 
men  hard,  cold,  selfish,  and  skeptical,  simply  because 
it  helps  to  kill  out  this  heart-life,  this  warm,  genial, 
sympathetic  life  of  love  in  the  soul.  And  on  this  ac- 
count the  sciences  will  always  be  inferior  to  the 
classics  as  a  means  of  culture,  because  they  do  not 
appeal  to  the  better  side  of  human  nature,  do  not 
waken  into  life  the  higher  emotions,  do  not  call  out 
nor  develop  the  life  of  sentiment  and  of  beauty  in 
the  mind.  Better  be  less  intellectual  and  more  loving 
in  a  world  like  this  !  No  amount  of  talent  can  com- 
pensate for  a  dead,  cold  heart. 

On  the  society  side  of  life  where  the  force  and 
power  of  women  are  felt,  there  is  a  vanity  and  an  ex- 


44  6  HUtaAN    LOVE. 

cessive  love  of  dress  and  display  which  is  killing  out 
this  tender  love  and  sympathy.  And  as  women  are 
the  natural  and  heaven-appointed  guardians  of  this 
higher,  finer,  and  better  life  of  humanity,  when  they 
become  derelict  and  degenerate,  the  pupils  of  course 
suffer  with  them.  For  man  is  woman's  pupil  in  this 
life  of  love, — God  made  her  as  his  teacher, — and 
when  she  lowers  the  tone  of  her  own  heart-life,  she 
pulls  down  the  whole  social  fabric  with  her.  We  plead, 
then,  for  a  re-invigoration  of  our  individual  and 
national  heart-life,  for  a  return  to  the  days  of  good, 
honest,  sincere,  genuine  affection  between  man  and 
man,  and  man  and  woman.  The  true  feeling  of  a 
true  woman  in  regard  to  this  subject  is  beautifully 
expressed  by  Mrs.  Emily  C.  Judson  (formerly  Fanny 
Forester)  in  a  poem  called,  "  My  Angel  Guide." 
Two  or  three  stanzas  read  as  follows  : 

"  I  gazed  down  life's  dim  labyrinth 

A  wildering  maze  to  see, 
Crossed  o'er  by  many  a  tangled  clue. 

And  wild  as  wild  could  be; 
But  as  I  gazed  in  doubt  and  dread, 

An  angel  came  to  me. 

"I  knew  him  for  a  heavenly  guide. 

I  knew  him  even   then,     *  *  *  * 
And  as  I  leaned  my  weary  head 

Upon  his  proffered  breast, 
And  scanned  the  peril-haunted  wild 

From  out  my  place  of  rest, 
1  wondered  if  the  shining  ones 

Of  Eden  were  more  blest. 

**  For  there  was  light  within  my  soul, 
Light  on  my  peaceful  way; 


HUMAN    LOVE. 


447 


And  all  around  the  blue  above 

The  clustering  starlight  lay; 
While  easterly  I  saw  upreared 

The  pearly  gates  of  day!" 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  true  feelings  of  a  true 
man  on  the  same  theme?  are  aptly  embodied  in  some 
lines  from  Byron  : 

"Yes,  love  indeed  is  light  from  heaven, 
A  spark  of  that  immortal  fire 
With  angels  shared,  by  Allah  given, 
To  lift  from  earth  our  low  desire. 
A  feeling  from  the  Godhead  caught 
To  wean  from  self  each  sordid  thought; 
A  ray  from  Him  who  formed  the  whole — 
A  glory  circling  round  the  soul  I " 


448 


COURTSHIP. 


COURTSHIP, 


**  Learn  to  win  a  lady's  faith 

Nobly,  as  the  thing  is  high; 
Bravely,  as  for  life  and  death, 

And  with  loyal  gravity. 
Lead  her  from  the  festive  boards, 

Point  her  to  the  starry  skies, 
Guard  her  by  your  truthful  words 

Pure  from  courtship's  flatteries. 
Then  her  Yes  once  said  to  you, 

Shall  be  Yes  forevermore." 

— ELIZABETH  B.  BROWNING, 


[HE  period  of  courtship  in  human  experi- 
ence is  not  only  very  tangible,  but  also 
very  important  as  well ;  and  a  period, 
moreover,  which  is  seldom  forgotten  after 

v~'VvN'"x  *^ 

being  once  enjoyed, — or  endured.  That 
a  good  deal  of  the  "  courting"  which  is  ordinarily 
done  by  lovers  is  silly  in  itself,  and  looks  supremely 
so  to  uninterested  outsiders,  we  readily  admit.  But 
what  of  it,  so  long  as  it  enters  into,  and  constitutes 
one  of  the  principal  ingredients  of  the  cup  of  human 
happiness  ?  Some  one  has  truly  said  that  "  he  who 
is  not  foolish  half  of  the  time,  is  all,"  and  there  is 
much  of  philosophy  and  good  sense  wrapped  up  in 
the  remark.  We  cannot  be  wise  and  profound,  grave 
and  dignified  all  of  the  time,  if  we  try.  Washington 


BASHFULNESS.  449 

Irving  in  his  "  Knickerbocker "  describes  some  of 
those  old  Dutch  Governors  of  New  York  as  sitting 
on  a  judicial  bench  all  day,  and  rarely  smiling  or 
speaking,  but  those  men,  it  must  be  remembered, 
were  very  fat,  heavy,  and  logy,  and  smoked,  and 
drank  beer  incessantly ;  and  therefore  can  hardly  be 
compared  with  the  modern  "  live  Yankee  "  inhabiting 
the  country  to-day.  There  is  only  one  kind  of  bird 
that  never  indulges  in  fun  (so  far  as  we  know),  and 
that  is  an  owl ;  the  rest  of  them  chipper  and  coo  and 
make  love  to  each  other  just  as  boys  and  girls  do, 
and  seemingly  enjoy  it  as  much.  We  shall  therefore 
only  speak  the  truth  when  we  aver  that  in  the  good 
old-fashioned  process  of  courtship  as  carried  on  be- 
tween young  men  and  maidens, — and  between  old 
ones  also,  if  they  ever  have  occasion  to  Tepeat  their 
love-experience, — there  lies  a  very  large  share  of 
tangible  comfort  and  genial  enjoyment 

BASHFULNESS. 

In  the  first  place,  courtship  is  a  great  civilizing 
agency.  Nothing  ever  takes  the  bashfulness  and 
awkwardness  out  of  a  boy  like  the  fiery  ordeal  of 
" going  to  see  his  girl"  especially  if  any  one  else  is 
"  around  "  except  the  enamored  pair.  And  nothing 
ever  puts  a  young,  unsophisticated  girl  on  her  mettle 
more  than  to  properly  receive  and  entertain  her  first 
youthful  lover.  The  experience  is  sometimes  highly 
amusing  to  others,  and  often  highly  excruciating  to  the 
parties  themselves ;  but  the  simple  result  and  out- 
come of  it  all  is,  that  it  does  them  both  good  in  more 
senses  than  one,  and  they  both  come  out  of  it  more 

• 


450  BASHFULNESS. 

matured  in  thought  and  feeling,  and  better  prepared 
for  life  than  before  they  met.  Charles  Lamb  has 
described  an  experience  of  this  kind  in  verse  which  is 
too  rich  and  true  to  life  to  pass  by,— 

"  Ah!  I  remember  well  (and  how  can  I 
But  evermore  remember  well)  when  first 
Our  flame  began,  when  scarce  we  knew  what  was 
The  flame  we  felt;  when,  as  we  sat  and  sighed 
And  looked  upon  each  other,  and  conceived 

Not  what  we  ail'd — yet  something  we  did  ail; 
A.nd  yet  were  well,  and  yet  were  not  well, 
And  what  was  our  disease  we  could  not  tell." 

In  this  connection,  we  cannot  do  better  than  quote 
also  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman's  exquisite  poem  on 
the  pleasures,  trials,  and  consequences  of  "seeing  a 
girl  home  from  meeting  "  in  the  country  for  the  first 
time.  The  man  or  woman  who  can  read  it  without 
interest,  or  without  feeling  a  warm  thrill  run  through 
his  or  her  heart,  even  though  well  on  in  years,  has  a 
nature,  or  has  had  an  experience  in  life,  which  is  le- 
gitimate matter  for  the  exercise  of  pity.  And  the 
man  or  woman  who  cannot  recall  a  similar  experience 
in  his  or  her  own  heart-history,  is  also  to  be  commis- 
erated as  having  never  yet  felt  a  species  of  joy  which 
comes  to  the  heart  but  once,  or  rarely,  during  a  whole 
lifetime. 

The  conference  meeting  through  at  last, 
We  boys  around  the  vestry  waited 

To  see  the  girls  come  trippirig  past, 
Like  snowbirds  willing  to  be  matedo 

Not  braver  he  that  leaps  the  wall 
level  musket-flashes  litten, 


BASHFULNESS.  451 

Than  I,  who  stepped  before  them  all 
Who  longed  to  see  me  get  the  mitten. 

But  no;  she  blushed,  and  took  my  arm! 

We  let  the  old  folks  have  the  highway^ 
And  started  toward  the  Maple  Farm 

Along  a  kind  of  lovers'  by-way. 
I  can't  remember  what  we  said, 

'Twas  nothing  worth  a  song  or  story  £ 
Yet  that  rude  path  by  which  we  sped 

Seemed  all  transformed,  and  in  a  glory. 

The  snow  was  crisp  beneath  our  feet, 

The  moon  was  full,  the  fields  were  gleaming  5 
By  hood  and  tippet  sheltered  sweet, 

Her  face  with  youth  and  health  was  beaming, 
The  little  hand  outside  her  muff — 

O  sculptor,  if  you  could  but  mould  itl 
So  lightly  touched  my  jacket  cuff, 

To  keep  it  warm,  I  had  to  hold  it, 

At  last  we  reached  the  foot-worn  stone 
Where  that  delicious  journey  ended; 
***** 

She  shook  her  ringlets  from  her  head, 
And  with  a  "  Thank  you,  Ned  "  dissembled  j 

For  I  was  sure  she  understood 

With  what  a  daring  wish  I  trembled. 

A  cloud  passed  kindly  overhead, 

The  moon  was  slily  peeping  through  it; 
***** 

My  lips  till  then  had  only  known 

The  kiss  of  mother  and  of  sister, 
But  somehow  full  upon  her  own 

Sweet,  rosy,  darling  mouth — I  kissed  her! 

Perhaps  'twas  boyish  love,  yet  still, 
O  listless  woman!  weary  lover! 


452  GETTING   ACQUAINTED. 

To  feel  once  more  that  fresh,  wild  thrill, 
I'd  give — But  who  can  live  life  over? 


GETTING  ACQUAINTED. 

The  essential  design  of  courtship  is  to  furnish  both 
parties  with  an  opportunity  of  getting  intimately 
acquainted  with  each  other's  characteristics  and  dis- 
positions before  the  final  word  is  spoken  which 
binds  them  together  for  life.  And  to  further  this  end, 
there  must  be  perfect  transparency  of  movement  and 
action,  and  perfect  honesty  of  purpose  and  motive. 
During  the  period  of  courtship,  the  first  wild  flush  of 
youthful  love  which  has  led  to  the  mutual  association 
should  strengthen,  ripen,  and  consolidate  into  a  sober 
attachment,  solid  and  enduring  enough  to  form  an 
adequate  basis  for  marriage.  Hence,  great  caution  is 
needed  here,  and  also  the  exercise  of  the  best  judg- 
ment of  both  parties.  Mistakes  are  easy,  and  often 
lead  to  fatal  results. 

Says  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wise :  "  When  a  young  man 
feels  a  fondness  arising  in  his  mind  for  a  young  lady, 
he  should  hold  it  in  check  until  he  can  discover  who 
and  what  she  is.  A  lady,  wreathed  in  smiles,  and 
moving  with  cautious  effort  to  conceal  defects  of  tem- 
per or  of  intellect,  can  soon  acquire  an  irresistible 
influence  over  the  mind  of  an  attentive  lover,  unless 
he  is  well  on  his  guard.  And  it  will  be  far  better  for 
him  to  stifle  his  affection  at  the  beginning,  if  he  dis- 
covers her  unfitness  to  be  his  wife,  than  to  go  on 
heedlessly,  and  bear  the  lifelong  agony  of  an  impru- 
dent marriage.  In  like  manner,  the  paramount 
question  with  every  young  lady,  concerning  the  man 


UNMASKED.  453 

who  is  paying  her  particular  attention,  should  be  ; 
'  Is  he  worthy  of  my  love  ?  *  And  her  first  aim  should 
be  to  decide  this  question,  carefully  and  honestly,  by 
studying  his  character,  observing  his  appearance  and 
conduct,  and  inquiring  into  his  history,  standing,  and 
parentage." 

Of  course,  we  are  not  so  foolish  and  unreasonable 
as  to  suppose  that  every  young  man  and  woman  en- 
gaged in  courtship,  will  not  strive  to  appear  "  at  their 
best"  when  in  the  company  of  each  other.  This 
striving  is  both  natural  and  inevitable,  and  altogether 
harmless,  provided  that  there  is  no  deliberate 
intention  to  deceive 

UNMASKED 

The  story  is  told  of  a  young  man,  paying  particular 
attention  to  a  young  lady,  that  he  was  invited  into 
the  parlor  one  day  to  wait  her  appearance.  While 
there,  a  little  sister,  some  five  years  old,  skipped  in 
and  said  to  him  :  "  I  wish  you  would  stay  here  all  the 
time,  for  when  you  are  coming,  sister  begins  to  sing 
and  be  good,  gives  me  cake  and  pie,  and  anything  I 
want ;  but  when  you  are  gone  sister  is  not  so  good  ; 
she  gets  mad,  and  slaps  and  bangs  me  about."  The 
revelation  came  just  in  time,  for  the  young  man  took 
his  hat  and  left  before  the  fickle,  deceiving  siren  had 
got  ready  to  show  herself,  and  never  went  there 
again.  Served  her  right. 

It  is  an  unpleasant  fact — but  a  fact,  nevertheless — 
that  many  courtships  and  marriage  ventures  are  not 
governed  or  carried  on  from  motives  of  pure  love  at 
all,  but  rather  by  considerations  of  convenience, 


454  UNMASKED. 

policy,  property,  social  distinction,  and  a  hundred 
other  kindred  motives.  Love,  however,  is  the  only 
natural  and  divinely-ordained  basis  on  which  such  re- 
lationship can  stand  secure.  And  where  this  true 
love  exists,  there  need  be  no  apprehension  of  failure 
in  the  carrying  out  of  matrimonial  designs,  for  love's 
mysterious  alchemy,  encountering  impeding  elements 
or  obstacles,  turns  them  all  into  gold,  and  so  prepares 
the  way  for  the  crowning  realization  of  its  hopes. 
What  a  world  of  sorrow  and  pain  and  anguish  of 
heart,  of  domestic,  legal,  and  social  difficulty  would 
be  avoided,  if  the  little  winged  god  could  be  allowed 
to  maintain  his  place  at  the  helm  of  every  matrimonial 
craft,  all  the  voyage  through ! 

But  where  baser  natures  predominate,  and  young 
ladies  are  willing  to  barter  themselves,  soul  and  body, 
for  the  uncertain  emoluments  of  wealth,  so  long  must 
they  risk  the  consequences  of  matrimonial  failure  or 
unenviable  notoriety,  of  more  or  less  social  scandal, 
and  possibly  of  a  secret  heartache.  The  only 
effectual  way  of  preventing  social  disasters,  is  to 
elevate  the  nature  and  idea  of  courtship  association, 
or,  rather,  to  bring  it  back  to  its  divine  and  original 
idea — to  make  it  a  matter  of  the  heart,  primarily  and 
fundamentally,  leaving  all  items  of  wealth,  position, 
and  the  like,  to  be  arranged  as  strictly  secondary  and 
subordinate  details.  Courtship  or  marriage,  in  any 
case,  without  love  as  the  inspiring  and  controlling 
motive,  is  a  gigantic  blunder,  a  desperate  expedient, 
an  enormous  social  crime.  Said  Themistocles,  the 
wise  Athenian  ruler :  "  If  compelled  to  choose,  I 
would  bestow  my  daughter  upon  a  man  without 
money,  sooner  than  upon  money  without  a  man." 


MARRIAGE.  455 


MARRIAGE. 


"  If  that  thy  bent  of  love  be  honorable, 
Thy  purpose  marriage,  send  me  word  to-morrow, 
And  all  my  fortunes  at  thy  feet  I'll  lay, 
And  follow  thee,  my  lord,  throughout  the  world." 

ROMEO  AND  JULIETo 

"  Never  wedding,  ever  wooing, 
Still  a  love-lorn  heart  pursuing, 
Read  you  not  the  wrong  you're  doing 

In  my  cheek's  pale  hue  ? 
All  my  life  with  sorrow  strewing — 
Wed,  or  cease  to  woo." 

— THOS.  CAMPBELL. 


M PARING  life  to  a  passage  o'er  a  restless 
flood,  marriage  is  like  a  suspension-bridge 
which  spans  the  torrent ;  and  over  this 
structure  the  long  train  of  humanity  has 
ever  walked  with  joyful  or  weary  feet.  In 
other  words,  marriage  is  a  "  Bitter-Sweet," 
with  the  sweet  predominating,  if  the  proper  condi- 
tions are  observed.  Longfellow  is  entirely  right 
when  he  says: 

M  As  the  cord  unto  the  bow  is, 
So  is  woman  unto  the  man: 
Useless  each  'without the  other" 


45  6  MARRIAGE. 

In  childhood  days,  the  young  girls  at  school  were 
wont  to  form  a  circle  and  go  round  and  round  re- 
peating in  chorus  the  well-worn  lines, 

"  The  happiesbsHfe  that  ever  was  led, 
Is  always  to  cpurtt  and  never  to  wed ;" 

and  judging  from  the  actions  of  many  children  of  a 
larger  growth  now,  the  same  sentiment  is  quite  ex- 
tensively cherished.  There  is  many  a  pert  young 
Miss  (and  now  and  then  a  pert  old  one,  also)  who 
declares  with  a  species  of  bitter  disdain  that 

"  The  hour  of  marriage  ends  the  female  reign, 
And  we  give  all  we  have  to  buy  a  chain; 
Hire  men  to  be  our  lords,  who  were  our  slaves, 
And  bribe'  our  lovers  to  be  perjured  knaves." 

But  these  are  among  that  large  and  growing  num- 
ber of  female  butterflies  who  had  rather  continue  to 
bask  in  a  lover's  smiles  and  attentions,  than  assume 
the  responsibilities  and  cares  of  a  permanent  married 
state.  These  stoutly  aver  that  "she  that  takes  the 
best  of  husbands,  puts  on  a  golden  fetter ;  for  hus- 
bands are  like  painted  fruit  which  promise  much,  but 
still  deceive  us  when  we  come  to  try  them."  And 
then,  growing  bolder  with  outspoken  contempt,  they 
sometimes  loudly  proclaim  that 

"  Wedlock's  a  saucy,  sad,  farpHmr  state, 
Where Totks^are  very^«|5c  to  scold  and  hate; 
While  love,  k£p?*£tLa.jdistance,  is  divine, 

says  everything,  that's  fine." 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  many  more  true 


MARRIAGE.  457 

and  noble  women  who  would  echo  the  words  of  Mrs. 
Hemans  when  she  writes  thus  of  her  husband  : 

w  I  bless  thee  for  the  noble  heap* 

The  tender  and  the  true, 
Where  mine  hath  found  the  happiest  rest 

That  e'er  fond  woman's  knews 
I  bless  thee,  faithful  friend  and  guide, 

For  my  own,  my  treasured  share 
In  all  the  secrets  of  thy  soul, 

Thy  sorrow  and  thy  care. 

"I  bless  thee  for  kind  looks  and  words 

Showered  on  my  path  like  dew; 
For  all  the  love  in  those  deep  eyes, 

A  gladness  ever  new ! 
For  the  voice  which  ne'er  to  mine  replied 

But  in  kindly  tones  of  cheer; 
For  every  spring  of  happiness 
My  soul  hath  tasted  here,,'9 

Or  again,  with  another  they  would  acknowledge 
that  "  the  tying  of  two  in  wedlock  is  as  the  tuning  of 
two  lutes  in  one  key ;  one  cannot  be  delighted,  but 
the  other  rejoiceth."  They  would  joyfully  declare 
that  "  marriage,  rightly  understood,  gives  to  the 
tender  and  the  good,  a  paradise  below." 

The  hour  when  a  young  couple  stand  up  before 
the  altar  and  take  upon  themselves  vows  and  prom- 
ises which  can  end,  properly  and  lawfully,  only  with 
the  life  of  one  of  the  parties,  is  as  solemn  as  it  is  in- 
terestingo  Both  are  inexperienced  in  the  ways  of 
the  world,  and  both  are  ignorant  of  the  thousand 
trials  and  perplexities  of  the  life  before  them,  and 
yet  both  are  so  confiding  and  trustful,  and  so  full  of 


45  8  MARRIAGE. 

hope,  anticipation,  and  joy,  that  it  seems  to  them,  in 
their  blindness,  that  nothing  can  ever  shake  their  set- 
tled bliss.  But  what  makes  the  father  and  mother 
and  intimate  friends  often  weep  at  these  wedding 
festivals  ?  Mrs.  Hemans  says, 

"  Holy  and  pure  are  the  drops  that  fall 
When  the  young  bride  goes  from  the  father's  hall., 
For  she  goes  unto  love  untried  and  new. 
And  parts  from  love  which  hath  aye  been  true.*'' 

What  makes  the  aged  spectators  weep  ?  It  is 
doubtless  mingled  recollection  and  anticipatory  fore- 
bodingo  It  is  the  'knowledge  of  future  contingen- 
cies and  possibilities  which  has  been  gained  perchance, 
by  bitter  experience.  The  old  people  know,  if  the 
young  couple  do  not,  that  "honeymoons"  are  gen- 
erally short-lived,  and  after  the  calm  frequently 
comes  a  storm0 

It  is  probably  true  that  the  majority  of  young 
people  enter  upon  the  married  state  with  altogether 
too  high  and  extravagant  notions  about  what  they 
are  to  experience  and  enjoy  in  this  new  sphere  of 
life.  As  love  is  largely  ideal  in  its  nature,  the  im- 
agination often  carries  away  captive  all  the  more 
solid  and  sober  faculties  of  the  mind,  and  feeds  the 
two  smitten  souls  with  a  sweet  compound  of  fancies 
and  phantoms,  "  cooked  to  a  turn,  and  nicely  sea- 
soned." But  even  this  temporary  delusion  is  one  of 
the  kindly  provisions  of  nature,  and  should  always  be 
accounted  such. 

Light  causes  often  move  dissensions  between  hearts 
that  love.  When  jealousy  comes  in,  love  usually  goes 
out.  There  is  not  a  single  redeeming  side  or  feature 


MARRIAGE.  459 

to  this  fell  passion  of  human  nature,  for  its  root  is  a 
morbid  and  exacting  self-love,  rather  than  love  for  the 
other,  as  is  sometimes  alleged,  by  way  of  its  justifica- 
tion. Therefore,  let  every  married  couple  avoid  it  as 
they  would  the  coming  of  yellow  fever,  or  the  devil. 
After  this  passion  is  once  aroused,  the  bright  altar- 
flame  which  once  leaped  from  heart  to  eyes,  and 
spread  itself  like  the  crimson  glow  of  sunrise  all  over 
the  countenance,  dies  down,  and  burns  lower  and 
lower  until  there  is  left  but  the  chilled  and  cheerless 
cinders  of  an  extinct  funeral  pyre.  The  heart  is  dead 
and  cold,  or  changed  to  an  instrument  of  self-torture 
and  intense  hate.  Then  life  becomes  an  intolerable 
burden,  to  be  shaken  off  at  the  first  convenient  op- 
portunity through  suicide,  or  is  converted  into  a 
suppressed  volcano  whose  internal  fury  and  wrath 
are  liable  at  any  time  to  burst  forth  in  flames  of 
cruelty,  desertion,  or  murder. 

Yet,  after  all  this,  more  mutual  love  and  more  mar- 
riages are  among  the  great  wants  of  our  time.  The 
darkest  side  of  our  present  social  life  lies  in  the  direc- 
tion of  this  want.  Young  men  and  maidens  are  not 
marrying  as  fast  as  is  good  and  healthful  for  public 
morality  and  social  virtue.  Pure,  happy,  industrious 
homes  constitute  the  nucleus  of  both  church  and 
state,  and  a  peaceful,  united  pair  is  the  only  normal 
divinely-established  and  perfectly  rounded  unit  of 
humanity,  and  the  only  true  center  and  source  of  all 
that  makes  life  valuable,  or  earth  blessed. 

As  good  Bishop  Taylor  says  :  "  If  you  are  for 
pleasure,  marry  ;  if  you  prize  rosy  health,  marry.  A 
good  wife  is  Heaven's  last  and  best  gift  to  man  ,  his 
angel  of  mercy.  Her  voice  is  his  sweetest  music ; 


460  MARRIAGE, 

her  smiles,  his  brightest  day ;  her  kiss,  the  guardian 
of  his  innocence ;  her  industry,  his  surest  wealth  ;  her 
economy,  his  safest  steward ;  her  lips,  his  faithful 
counselors  ;  her  bosom,  his  softest  pillow  ;  her  pray- 
ers, his  ablest  advocate  at  Heaven's  court"  Therefore, 
reader,  think  of  some  familiar  picture  of  old  bachelor- 
hood or  maidenhood  life  with  which  you  are 
acquainted,  and  then  look  on  this  picture  of  married 
life: 

6b  Dainty  Mabel,  full  of  grace, 
With  her  bright  and  smiling  face, 
Dances  lightly  'cross  the  floor 
Opens  wide  the  outer  door. 
For  she  hears  above  the  blast 
Of  the  Storm-King  sweeping  past- 
Hears  a  welcome,  well-  known  step—- 
Hears a  voice  cry :  "Ah,  my  pet!  * 
Safely  sheltered  from  the  storm^ 
By  the  fireside  bright  and  warm, 
With  his  arms  about  her  pressed. 
With  her  head  upon  his  breast. 
Softly  says  he.  ^Ah,  Ma-Belle, 
How  I  love  you,  none  can  tell; 
What  have  I  to  fear  in  life, 
While  I  hold  my  darling  wife?* 
Slow  she  answers,  with  a  sigh, 
t  When  the  years,  in  passing  by, 
Shall  dim  the  luster  of  my  eyes, 
When  I  make  you  dull  replies, 
Will  your  love  grow  dead  and  cold, 
Will  you  love  me  when  I'm  old  ? ' 
Stroking  now  her  drooping  head, 
Low  and  gently  Robin  said : 
*  Well  I  know  the  hand  of  Time 
Will  whiten  both  your  hair  and  mine; 
But  togethel  we  will  share 


MARRIAGE.  461 

Every  joy  and  every  care; 
Then,  as  now,  will  rise  above 
Thanks  for  thee,  my  darling  love.' 
Now  the  curtains  downward  drop, 
The  fire  burns  low,  the  lights  are  out 
They  have  gone  to  peaceful  rest, 
And  the  angels,  hovering  near, 
Drop,  methinks,  a  silent  tear 
O'er  the  holiest  thing  in  life — 
A  happy  husband,  happy  wife." 

Jeremy  Taylor  says:  "  Marriage  has  in  it  less  of 
beauty,  but  more  safety,  than  the  single  life.  It  hath 
not  more  ease,  but  less  danger ;  it  is  more  merry,  and 
more  sad  ;  it  is  fuller  of  sorrows,  and  fuller  of  joys ; 
it  lies  under  more  burdens,  but  it  is  supported  by  all 
the  strength  of  love  and  charity,  and  those  burdens 
are  delightful.  Marriage  is  the  mother  of  the  world, 
and  preserves  kingdoms,  and  fills  cities  and  churches, 
and  heaven  itself.  Celibacy,  like  the  fly  in  the  heart  of 
the  apple,  dwells  in  perpetual  sweetness,  but  sits 
alone,  and  is  confined,  and  dies  in  singularity ;  but 
marriage,  like  the  useful  bee,  builds  a  house  and 
gathers  sweetness  from  every  flower ;  labors  and 
unites  into  societies  and  republics  ;  sends  out  colonies, 
and  feeds  the  world  with  delicacies  ;  obeys  the  king 
and  keeps  order,  and  exercises  many  virtues,  and 
promotes  the  interests  of  mankind.  Tis  that  state  of 
good  to  which  God  hath  designed  the  present 
condition  of  the  world." 

Pope  thus  speaks  of  the  pleasures  of  married  life : 

"Oh,  happy  state!  when  souls  each  other  draw. 
When  love  is  liberty,  and  nature  law; 
All  then  is  full,  possessing  and  possessed, 


462  IvfARRIAGE. 

No  craving  void  left  aching  in  the  breast; 

E'en  thought  meets  thought,  ere  from  the  lips  it  part, 

As  each  warm  wish  springs  mutual  from  the  heart." 

"  Live  in  a  palace  without  woman,"  says  Douglas 
Jerrold ;  "'tis  but  a  place  to  shiver  in.  Whereas, 
take  off  the  house-top,  break  every  window,  make  the 
doors  creak,  the  chimneys  smoke  ;  give  free  entry  to 
the  sun,  wind,  rain — still  will  a  wife  make  the  hovel 
habitable ;  nay,  bring  the  little  household  gods 
crowding  about  the  fireplace." 

Sir  Thomas  Bernard  says  :  "Of  all  temporal  and 
worldly  enjoyments,  the  marriage  union  with  a  con- 
genial mind,  animating  a  pleasing  frame,  is  by  far  the 
greatest."  Johnson  writes  :  "  Marriage  is  the  strict- 
est tie  of  perpetual  friendship,  and  there  can  be  no 
friendship  without  confidence,  and  no  confidence  with- 
out integrity ;  and  he  must  expect  to  be  wretched 
who  pays  to  beauty,  riches,  or  politeness,  that  regard 
which  only  virtue  and  piety  can  claim.  *  *  * 
Marriage  has  many  pains,  but  celibacy  no  pleasures." 

"  I  have  noticed,"  says  Washington  Irving,  "  that  a 
married  man  falling  into  misfortune,  is  more  apt  to 
retrieve  his  situation  in  the  world  than  a  single  one, 
chiefly  because  his  spirits  are  softened  and  relieved 
by  domestic  endearments,  and  self-respect  kept  alive 
by  finding  that,  although  all  abroad  be  darkness  and 
humiliation,  yet  still  there  is  a  little  world  of  love  at 
home,  of  which  he  is  monarch  ;  whereas,  a  single  man 
is  apt  to  run  to  waste  and  self-neglect,  to  fall  to  ruin, 
like  a  deserted  mansion,  for  want  of  inhabitants. 
Those  disasters  which  break  down  the  spirit  of  man, 
and  prostrate  him  in  the  dust,  seem  to  call  forth  all 


MARRIAGE. 


463 


the  energies  of  the  softer  sex,  and  give  such  in- 
trepidity and  elevation  to  their  character,  that  at 
times  it  approaches  to  sublimity." 

And  so  we  will  sum  up  the  whole  matter  by  saying 
that, 

"  The  man  who  weds  a  loving  wife 
Whate'er  betide  him  in  this  life, 

Shall  bear  up  under  all; 
But  he  that  finds  an  evil  mate, 
No  good  can  come  within  his  gate, 
His  cup  is  filled  with  gall." 


464  HUSBAND    AND    WIFE. 


HUSBAND  AND    WIFE. 


"  Know  then, 

As  wives  owe  a  duty — so  do  men. 
Men  must  be  like  the  branch  and  bark  to  trees, 
Which  doth  defend  them  from  tempestuous  rage 
Clothe  them  in  winter,  tender  them  in  age. 
If  it  appears  to  them  they've  strayed  amiss, 
They  only  must  rebuke  them  with  a  kiss." 

WlLKlNS. 


JUT  UAL  happiness  can  only  be  enjoyed 
by  mutual  forbearance,  mutual  comfort, 
mutual  strength,  mutual  guidance,  mu- 
tual trust ;  common  principles,  common* 
duties,  common  burdens,  common  aims, 
common  hopes,  common  joys. 

Above  all  things,  don't  go  abroad  to 
speak  of  each  other's  frailties  ;  a  husband  or  a  wife 
ought  not  to  speak  of  the  other's  faults  to  any  but 
themselves.  Says  quaint  old  Fuller  :  "  Jars  concealed 
are  half  reconciled,  while,  if  generally  known,  'tis  a 
double  task  to  stop  the  breach  at  home,  and  men's 
mouths  abroad."  Hitches  will  occur,  but  many  bad 
results  may  be  avoided  by  a  resolution,  well  kept  on 
both  sides,  to  cloak  and  forgive  offenses  ;  to  say,  with 
Milton  • 


MUTUALLY    RESPECTFUL.  465 

"  Let  us  no  more  contend,  nor  blame 
Each  other,  blamed  enough  elsewhere ;  but  strive, 
In  offices  of  love,  how  each  may  lighten 
The  other's  burden  in  our  share  of  woe." 


The  skill  to  wound  and  the  skill  to  cure  are  very 
different  things.  The  first  is  most  cultivated,  and  the 
last  is  least  appreciated,  among  married  people. 
Family  life  will  claim  every  day  some  little  sacrifice. 
It  is  only  thus  that  true  love  can  exist,  for  wherever 
the  spirit  of  selfishness  is  allowed  to  take  its  place, 
discord  will  assuredly  follow. 

There  should  always  be  an  endeavor  on  the  part 
of  each  to  adapt  self  to  the  temper  and  characteristics 
of  the  other.  In  fact,  to  the  extent  of  this  mutual 
adaptation,  will  lie  the  measure  of  the  mutual  enjoy- 
ment. 

MUTUALLY  RESPECTFUL. 

Married  people  should  also  be  mutually  respectful 
to  each  other.  For  if  man  is  at  the  head  of  the 
household,  yet  the  wife  is  the  crown  of  her  husband, 
and  as  each  supplies  what  the  other  lacks,  each  is  as 
good  in  his  or  her  place  as  the  other.  Such  being 
the  case,  let  due  honor  be  given  to  each  other  on  all 
occasions.  Many  wait  for  some  great  opportunity  to 
exhibit  this  respect,  forgetting  that  the  happiness  of 
life  is  made  up  of  everyday  duties. 

Married  people  should  also  confide  in  each  other. 
Said  Lord  Bolingbroke  :  "  If  I  was  making  up  a 
plan  of  consequence,  I  should  like  first  to  consult 
with  a  sensible  woman."  Many  a  man  has  been 
saved  from  disastrous  speculations  by  consulting  his 
30 


466  MUTUALLY    RESPECTFUL. 

wife  ;  many  a  man  has  been  ruined  by  the  wife  al- 
lowing some  other  person's  judgment  to  interfere 
between  her  and  her  husband.  Never  listen  to  any 
one  for  a  moment  who  whispers,  "  Don't  tell  your 
wife,"  or  "husband."  You  ought  not  to  be  ashamed 
to  consult  one  another  upon  any  step  that  is  to  be 
taken.  Therefore,  be  frank  with  one  another ;  for 
let  a  man  think  what  he  may,  his  wife's  counsel  is 
worth  seeking.  She  will  often  see  what  is  right,  and 
actually  do  it,  before  the  husband  has  finished  his 
deliberations  ;  or,  as  another  says,  "  When  a  man 
has  toiled  step  by  step  up  a  flight  of  stairs,  he  will  be 
sure  to  find  a  woman  at  the  top,  but  she  will  not  be 
able  to  tell  how  she  got  there."  Women,  we  are 
told,  ''jump  to  conclusions,"  and  it  is  true.  The 
wife  can  "take  stock"  of  a  man  in  a  moment,  and 
if  she  warns  you  against  any  one,  depend  upon  it,  as 
a  rule  she  will  be  right.  A  woman  has  a  special  in- 
stinct in  this  respect.  Indeed,  the  intuitive  judg- 
ments of  women  are  often  more  to  be  relied  upon 
than  the  conclusions  which  men  reach  by  an  elaborate 
process  of  reasoning. 

Besides  these  mutual  duties  of  married  life,  there 
are  special  duties  belonging  to  husband  and  wife 
separately.  Thus  it  is  the  special  duty  of  the  hus- 
band to  provide  for  the  proper  support  of  his  wife. 
When  a  man's  work  is  done,  and  his  wages  are  in  his 
hand,  he  should  not  squander  them.  Nothing  is  so 
detrimental  to  home  and  happiness,  as  the  habit  of 
living  in  continual  want.  As  N.  P.  Willis  says, 

"  True  love  is  at  home  on  a  carpet, 
And  mightily  likes  his  ease, 


HOUSEHOLD  EXPENSES.  467 

And  has  a  good  eye  for  a  dinner, 
But  starves  beneath  shady  trees." 

HOUSEHOLD  EXPENSES. 

Household  expenses  should  never  exceed  the  in- 
come, and  it  is  worth  an  effort  to  keep  them  below  it. 
By  doing  this  you  will  save  one  frequent  source  of 
trouble  between  husband  and  wife,  namely,  expense. 
Instead  of  a  nice,  tidy,  cheerful  little  house,  with  its 
bit  of  garden,  its  comfortable  parlor,  and  all  the 
means  of  bringing  up  a  family,  so  as  to  set  them  on 
respectably  in  life,  and  put  the  chance  of  wealth 
and  influence  within  their  reach,  many  men  are  con- 
tent to  muddle  on  in  a  wretched  hovel,  letting  the 
poor  wife  slave,  and  the  children  roll  and  fight  in  the 
gutters. 

Again,  it  is  the  special  duty  of  the  husband  to  pre- 
fer his  home  and  seek  to  make  it  attractive.  The 
love  of  home  is  generally  a  test  of  character.  When 
a  man  spends  his  spare  time  mostly  away  from  home, 
it  implies  something  bad,  and  points  to  something 
worse.  Many  a  wife  has  occasion  to  utter  complaint 
on  this  score,  something  like  the  following  : 

"  You  took  me,  William,  when  a  girl,  unto  your  home  and  heart, 
To  bear  in  all  your  after-fate  a  fond  and  faithful  part ; 
And  I  would  rather  share  your  tear,  than  any  other's  glee, 
For  though  you're  nothing  to  the  world,  you're  all  the  world  to 

me. 

There's  sunlight  for  me  in  your  smiles,  and  music  in  your  tone; 
I  look  upon  you  when  you  sleep — my  eyes  with  tears  grow  dim, 
I  cry,'O  Parent  of  the  poor,  look  down  from  heaven  on  him; 
Behold  him  toil  from  day  to  day,  exhausting  strength  and  soul!' 
And  when  at  last  relieving  sleep  has  on  my  eyelids  smiled, 


468  HOUSEHOLD    EXPENSES. 

How  oft  are  they  forbade  to  close  in  slumber  by  our  child? 
I  take  the  little  murmurer  that  spoils  my  span  of  rest, 
And  feel  it  is  a  part  of  thee,  I  lull  upon  my  breast. 

"  There's  only  one  return  I  crave,  I  may  not  need  it  long, 

And  it  may  soothe  thee  when  I'm  where  the  wretched  feel  no 

wrong: 

I  ask  not  for  a  kinder  tone,  for  thou  wert  ever  kind; 
I  ask  not  for  less  frugal  fare,  my  fare  I  do  not  mind; 
I  ask  not  for  attire  more  gay,  if  such  as  1  have  got, 
Suffice  to  make  me  fair  to  thee,  for  more  I  murmur  not. 
But  I  would  ask  some  share  of  hours  that   you  on  clubs  bestow, 
Of  knowledge  which  you  prize  so  much,  might  I  not  something 

know  ? 

Subtract  from  meetings  among  men,  each  eve  an  hour  for  me; 
Make  me  companion  of  your  soul,  as  I  may  safely  be. 

"If  you  will  read,  I'll  sit  and  work;    then  think  when   you're 

away, 

Less  tedious  I  shall  find  the  time,  dear  William,  if  you  stay. 
A  meet  companion  soon  I'll  be  for  e'en  your  studious  hours, 
And  teacher  of  those  little  ones  you  call  your  cottage  flowers; 
And  if  we  be  not  rich  and  great,  we  may  be  wise  and  kind, 
And  as  my  heart  can  warm  your  heart,  so  may  my  mind   your 

mind.". 

No  one  likes  to  live  in  the  sight  of  ugliness.  No 
man  is  so  poor  but  that  he  can  have  flowering  shrubs 
in  his  yard.  Nature  is  industrious  in  adorning  her 
dominions;  and  man,  to  whom  this  beauty  is  ad- 
dressed, should  feel  and  obey  the  lesson.  Let  him, 
too,  be  industrious  in  adorning  his  domain,  in  making 
his  home,  the  dwelling  of  his  wife  and  children,  not 
only  convenient  and  comfortable,  but  pleasant.  Let 
him  as  far  as  circumstances  will  admit,  be  industrious 
in  surrounding  it  with  pleasant  objects,  in  decorating 
it  within  and  without,  with  things  that  tend  to  make 


THE    HUSBAND.  469 

it  agreeable  and  attractive.  Let  industry  make  home 
the  abode  of  neatness  and  order  ;  a  place  which 
brings  satisfaction  to  every  inmate,  and  which  in 
absence  draws  back  the  heart  by  its  fond  associa- 
tions of  comfort  and  content. 

THE  HUSBAND. 

The  word  husband  literally  means  "the  band  of 
the  house,"  the  support  of  it,  the  person  who  keeps 
it  together,  as  a  band  keeps  together  a  sheaf  of  corn. 
There  are  many  married  men  who  are  not  husbands, 
because  they  are  not  the  band  of  the  house.  In  many 
cases,  the  wife  is  the  husband ;  for  oftentimes  it  is 
she  who,  by  her  prudence,  and  thrift,  and  economy, 
keeps  the  house  together.  The  married  man  who, 
by  his  dissolute  habits,  strips  his  house  of  all  its 
comforts,  is  not  a  husband ;  in  a  legal  sense  he  is, 
but  in  no  other,  for  he  is  not  a  house-band ;  instead 
of  keeping  his  household  together,  he  suffers  both 
home  and  family  to  go  to  ruin. 

A  third  special  duty  of  the  husband  is  to  love  his 
wife  sincerely,  ardently,  and  supremely.  Before  you 
married  her,  you  consulted  her  tastes,  her  wishes, 
and  her  judgment  upon  everything  ;  surely  if  you 
love  her  sincerely,  she  is  still  worthy  of  the  same 
confidence.  Are  you  aware  that  she  still  thinks  that 
she  has  no  such  pleasant  walks  as  those  she  takes 
with  her  hand  leaning  upon  your  arm  ?  A  neglected 
wife  is  the  most  disconsolate  creature  in  the  world. 

«*  Be  to  her  faults  a  little  blind, 
And  to  her  virtues  very  kinda'' 


47O  THE    HUSBAND. 

Some  husbands  are  so  stiff  and  proud  that  they 
scarcely  say  a  kind  word  or  give  a  kiss  to  their  wives 
for  days  and  weeks  together.  It  is  an  awful  thing 
for  a  woman  to  be  married  to  a  man  with  whom,  as 
Dr.  Johnson  says,  she  may  be  "living  with  the  sus- 
picion and  solicitude  of  one  who  plays  with  a  tame 
tiger,  always  under  the  necessity  of  watching  the 
moment  when  the  savage  shall  begin  to  growl." 

Many  husbands  are  tyrants,  beneath  whose  sway 
all  the  gentler  affections  wither  and  die.  Take  care 
that  you  are  not  of  the  number  ;  but  if  you  pretend 
to  love  without  showing  that  you  love,  or  to  be  a 
husband  without  giving  up  an  hour  of  your  time  to 
her  whom  you  love,  how  is  she  to  know  of  the  exist- 
ence of  your  affection  ?  Remember,  the  power  of 
selfishness,  which  is  inwoven  with  our  whole  being,  is 
designed  to  be  altogether  broken  by  marriage ;  and, 
by  degrees,  that  love,  becoming  more  and  more  pure, 
should  take  its  place.  When  a  man  marries,  he  gives 
himself  up  to  another  being ;  in  this  affair  of  life  he 
first  goes  out  of  himself,  and  inflicts  the  first  deadly 
wound  on  his  egotism.  By  every  child  with  which 
his  marriage  is  blessed,  Nature  renews  the  same 
attack  on  his  selfhood  ;  causes  him  to  live  less  for 
himself,  and  more, — even  without  being  distinctly 
conscious  of  it, — for  others  ;  his  heart  expands  in  pro- 
portion as  the  claimants  upon  it  increase  ;  and,  burst- 
ing the  bonds  of  its  former  narrow  exclusiveness,  it 
eventually  extends  its  sympathies  to  all  around. 

Still  another  special  duty  of  the  husband  is  to  help 
his  wife  in  the  home,  when  he  can  do  so  without  in- 
fringing upon  larger  and  more  important  duties. 
Many  men  seem  to  forget  that  it  is  as  much  their 


THE    HUSBAND,  471 

duty,  now  and  then,  to  rock  a  cradle,  nurse  a  baby,  or 
play  with  the  children,  as  it  is  the  mother's.  It  is  a 
grand  thing  to  have  a  romp  with  the  children,  and 
that  man  is  not  worthy  to  be  a  father  who  cannot 
now  and  then  play  with  them,  or  take  an  interest  in 
their  sports  and  occupations.  Many  a  man  who, 
while  courting,  was  so  anxious  to  help  that  he  would 
scarcely  allow  Mary  to  carry  her  parasol,  seems,  when 
married,  to  forget  that  this  kind  of  attention  is  need- 
ful. Sometimes  we  may  see,  in  a  crowded  market, 
a  strong  man  walking  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
while  by  his  side  is  seen  his  weak  wife  struggling  be- 
neath the  weight  of  a  basket  laden  with  provisions. 
She  might  indeed  well  say  : 

CG  Once,  to  prevent  my  wishes,  Philo  flew ; 
But  Time, that. alters  alphas  altered  you," 

Remember,  that  there  are  many  little  duties  which 
a  man  can  easily  discharge,  but  which  will  make  the 
labor  of  his  wife  lighter  and  more  cheerful.  Look 
around  and  see  if  you  cannot  chop  some  wood,  carry 
some  coal,  fetch  in  some  water,  drive  in  a  few  nails, 
and,  as  we  have  said,  if  there  happen  to  be  any 
children,  play  with  them  a  little,  and  so  lighten  the 
burdens  of  the  household.  Gilfillan  says  :  "  Woman 
comes  after  man  in  the  order  of  creation,  and  is 
inferior  to  man  ;  but  woman,  at  the  same  time,  if 
weaker,  is  more  refined  in  her  composition  than  man. 
Woman  is  the  complement  of  man,  and  his  greatest 
desideratum.  Woman,  as  the  sister  of  man,  is  bound 
to  love,  and  entitled  to  be  loved  in  return  ;  as  the 
shadow  of  man,  to  reflect  and  obey  him ;  as  the 


472  THE   WIFE. 

spouse  of  man,  to  sympathize  with,  help,  and  cheer, 
and  receive  aid,  countenance,  and  sympathetic  com- 
passion in  exchange,," 

THE  WIFE, 

In  like  manner,  there  are  some  special  duties  for 
the  wife  to  perform,  and  these  we  now  enumerate,  as 
we  have  those  belonging  to  the  husband.  As  the 
word  "  husband  "  literally  means  a  house-band,  so  the 
word  ''wife"  signifies  literally  a  weaver.  Before 
cloth  and  cotton  factories  arose,  one  of  the  principal 
duties  of  a  wife  was  to  keep  the  family  in  clothing  by 
weaving.  The  wool  was  spun  into  thread  by  the 
girls,  who  were  therefore  called  spinsters,  and  the 
thread  into  cloth  by  the  wife,  who  was  called  a  weaver. 
And,  as  Trench  well  says  :  "In  the  word  itself  is 
wrapped  up  a  hint  of  earnest,  in-door,  stay-at-home 
occupations,  as  being  fitted  for  her  who  bears  the 
name."  Now,  if  we  judge  many  so-called  wives  by 
this  standard,  we  shall  find  them  a  long  way  from 
answering  the  conditions.  "  Marriage,"  one  says, 
"  changes  an  angel  into  a  woman,  and  it  is  a  lucky 
thing  if  the  process  does  not  go  on  and  change  her  into 
something  else ;  for  many  wives,  instead  of  being 
good,  are  good  for  nothing.  They  are  unreasonable, 
peevish,  indolent,  extravagant,  gossiping,  dirty,  slat- 
ternly. Indeed,  we  may  sum  up  by  saying  there  are 
some  goody  some  bad,  and  many  very  indifferent  ones 
to  be  found." 

But  the  wise  man  of  old  wrote  that  he  "  who 
findeth  a  good  wife,  findeth  a  good  thing,  and  ob- 
taineth  favor  from  the  Lord."  But  this  is  far  different 


THE    WIFE.  473 

from  saying  :  "  He  who  findeth  a  woman"  etc.  To 
find  a  woman,  is  easy  enough  ;  but  to  find  a  good 
wife,  is  sometimes  quite  difficult.  "  The  greatest  of 
earthly  blessings/'  said  Luther,  "  is  a  pious  and  amiable 
wife,  who  fears  God  and  loves  her  family,  and  with 
whom  a  man  may  be  at  peace."  While,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  bad  wife  is  as  "  shackles  on  a  man's  feet, 
a  palsy  to  his  hands,  a  burden  on  his  shoulders,  smoke 
in  his  eyes,  vinegar  to  his  teeth,  a  thorn  in  his  side,  a 
dagger  in  his  heart."  In  the  language  of  a  quaint 
old  writer  :  "A  good  wife  should  be  like  three  things 
—which  three  things  she  should  not  be  like.  First, 
she  should  be  like  a  snail,  to  keep  within  her  own 
house;  but  she  should  not  be  like  a  snail,  to  carry  all 
she  has  upon  her  back.  Secondly,  she  should  be  like 
an  echo,  to  speak  when  spoken  to  ;  but  she  should  not 
be  like  an  echo,  always  to  have  the  last  word. 
Thirdly,  she  should  be  like  a  town-clock,  always  to 
keep  time  with  regularity ;  but  she  should  not,  like  a 
town-clock,  speak  so  loud  that  all  the  town  may  hear." 
In  the  first  place,  there  can  never  be  but  one  head 
to  anything,  whether  it  be  a  manufacturing  corpora- 
tion or  a  household  ;  and  that  head,  God  says,  shall 
be  the  man.  Indeed,  nature  herself  revolts  at  the  in- 
decency of  a  woman  mounting  the  box,  grasping  the 
reins,  and  driving  her  household,  husband  included, 
whithersoever  she  will.  Milton  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  Eve  this  sentiment : 


«  What  thou  bidst, 
Unargued  I  obey ;  so  God  ordains ; 
God  is  thy  law,  thou  mine;  to  know  no  more 
Is  woman's  happiest  knowledge,  and  her  praise.' 


474  THE  WIFE. 

Matthew  Henry,  in  his  commentary,  when  speaking 
of  the  creation  of  woman  from  the  rib  of  the  man, 
forcibly  says  :  "  She  was  not  made  out  of  his  head,  to 
top  him  ;  not  out  of  his  feet,  to  be  trampled  upon  by 
him  ;  but  out  of  his  side,  to  be  equal  with  him  ;  under 
his  arm,  to  be  protected  ;  and  near  his  heart,  to  be 
beloved."  And  no  sensible  woman  can  object  to  this 
description.  Sidney  Smith  very  wisely  remarks, 
also  :  "  Every  man  has  little  infirmities  of  temper  and 
disposition  which  require  forgiveness ;  peculiarities 
which  require  to  be  managed  ;  prejudices  which  should 
be  avoided ;  innocent  habits  which  should  be  in- 
dulged ;  fixed  opinions  which  should  be  treated  with 
respect ;  particular  feelings  and  delicacies  which 
should  be  consulted.  All  this  may  be  done  without 
the  slightest  violation  of  truth,  or  the  most  trifling- 
infringement  of  religion.  These  are  the  sacrifices 
which  repay." 

Still,  the  husband  has  no  right  to  command  what  is 
morally  wrong  or  unlawful.  He  has  no  right  to  com- 
pel the  partner  of  his  life  to  become  a  partner  in 
sinful  pleasures  or  amusements ;  no  right  to  interfere 
with  the  proper  discharge  of  her  religious  duties,  or 
require  her  to  be  the  instrument  of  his  vices  or  follies. 
But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  while  the  men  hold  the  reins, 
the  women  generally  tell  them  which  way  to  drive. 

A  second  special  duty  of  the  wife  is  to  make  her 
home  a  supremely  happy  one  ;  to  cause  her  husband 
to  say,  while  away  at  his  work  : 

"  Rainy  and  rough  sets  the  day, 

There's  a  heart  waiting  for  somebody  | 
I  must  be  up  and  away, 


HOUSEHOLD    DUTIES.  475 

Somebody  is  anxious  for  somebody. 
Thrice  hath  she  been  to  the  gate, 

Thrice  hath  she  listened  for  somebody; 
Midst  the  night,  stormy  and  late, 

Somebody's  looking  for  somebody. 

"  There'll  be  a  comforting  fire, 

There'll  be  supper  for  somebody; 
One  in  her  neatest  attire 

Will  look  to  the  table  for  somebody. 
Though  the  stars  set  from  the  west, 

There's  a  star  shining  for  somebody, 
Lighting  the  home  he  loves  best, 

Warming  the  bosom  of  somebody. 

"There'll  be  a  coat  o'er  the  chair, 

There'll  be  slippers  for  somebody ; 
There'll  be  a  wife's  tender  care, 

Love's  fond  endearments  for  somebody. 
There'll  be  a  little  one's  charms, 

Soon  they'll  be  wakened  for  somebody, 
When  I've  got  both  in  my  arms, 

Then  oh!  how  blest  will  be  somebody." 

HOUSEHOLD  DUTIES. 

Accordingly,  it  will  be  the  wife's  business  to  pre- 
pare beforehand  for  the  prompt  discharge  of  all  her 
household  duties.  For  a  stitch  in  time  not  only  saves 
nine,  but  prevents  those  outbreaks  of  temper  which 
often  occur  when  there  is  a  button  short,  or  some 
little  article  is  wanted  at  the  last  moment,  when  all 
are  ready  to  sit  down  to  dinner  or  tea.  Men  love 
neatness,  tidiness,  method  ;  and  nothing  pleases  them 
better  than  to  see  a  woman  who  is  a  "clever  man- 
ager" of  her  house.  And  the  finest  music  in  the 


476  HOUSEHOLD    DUTIES. 

world  has  not  so  sweet  a  sound  as  that  of  the  rattling 
plate  exactly  at  the  meal-time  hour ;  while  fancy 
work  will  soon  be  cast  aside  with  contempt,  if  the 
buttons  are  not  put  on  the  shirts,  ready  for  use. 
Good  wives,  as  a  rule,  make  good  husbands ;  while 
bad  wives  transform  good  husbands  into  bad  ones  ; 
or,  as  Rousseau  says,  "  Men  will  always  be  what 
women  make  them." 

There  is  quite  a  practical  moral  to  the  following 
story :  A  few  weeks  after  marriage,  a  husband  had 
some  peculiar  thoughts  when  putting  on  his  clean 
shirt,  as  he  saw  no  appearance  of  a  washing.  He 
thereupon  rose  earlier  than  usual  one  morning,  and 
kindled  a  fire.  When  putting  on  the  kettle,  He  made 
a  noise  on  purpose  to  arouse  his  wife.  She  im- 
mediately peeped  over  the  blankets,  and  then  ex- 
claimed, "My  dear,  what  are  you  doing?"  He 
deliberately  responded,  "I've  put  on  my  last  clean 
shirt,  and  I'm  going  to  wash  one  now  for  myself." 
"Very  well,"  replied  Mrs.  Easy,  "you  had  better 
wash  one  for  me,  too,  while  you  are  at  it."  Of  course 
by  such  a  method  even  an  angel  would  soon  become 
soured.  By  way  of  helping  to  keep  the  house  in 
order,  we  give  the  following  hints  on  household 
management.  Have  a  stated  day  of 'the  week  for 
ascertaining  and  getting  in  what  articles  you  need  for 
the  house.  Don't  market  on  Saturday  night  if  you 
can  avoid  it.  Get  the  washing  over  in  the  early  part 
of  the  week,  so  that  the  ironing,  mending,  etc.,  may 
be  out  of  the  way  before  Saturday.  Have  a  place 
for  everything,  and  try  to  keep  everything  in  its  place. 

Another  special  duty  of  the  wife  is  to  take  good 
care  of  her  health.  How  comparatively  few  married 


HOUSEHOLD    DUTIES.  477 

women  we  meet,  who  are  anything  like  healthy  and 
strong ;  they  can  neither  eat,  drink,  nor  sleep  as 
they  ought.  Women  of  the  present  day  are  far 
more  feeble  than  their  grandmothers  of  the  early 
part  of  this  century.  They  do  not  take  enough  out- 
door exercise.  Indeed,  they  often  say  they  stay  in- 
doors until  they  don't  want  to  go  out.  This  is  a 
great  and  fatal  mistake.  Then  there  is  the  proper 
ventilation  of  the  house,  and  especially  the  bedrooms 
every  day.  It  is  the  general  practice  to  make  the 
beds  as  soon  as  possible  in  the  morning.  It  is  a  sin- 
gular thing  that  the  rooms  in  which  we  spend  a  third 
at  least  of  our  lives,  are  frequently  the  worst  venti- 
lated places  in  the  house ;  and  what  little  air  can  get 
through  is  frequently  hindered  by  the  foolish  habit  of 
stopping  up  the  chimney.  See  to  it  that  a  good  cur^ 
rent  of  fresh  air  gets  into  your  sleeping-rooms,  if  you 
wish  to  preserve  your  health,  and  keep  away  disease. 
Again,  a  desire  to  please  in  her  appearance  should 
never  leave  the  wife  for  a  single  day  ;  for  if  she  be- 
gins to  neglect  herself,  she  will  find  it  a  short  and 
easy  road  to  neglect  the  house.  A  dirty  woman  and 
a  dirty  house  generally  go  together.  Many  worthy 
women,  who  would  not  for  the  world  be  found  want- 
ing in  the  matter  of  personal  neatness,  seem  some- 
how to  have  the  notion  that  any  study  of  the  arts  of 
personal  beauty  in  family  life  is  unmatronly.  Mar- 
riage sometimes  transforms  a  charming,  trim,  tripping 
young  lady  into  a  waddling  matron,  whose  everyday 
toilet  suggests  only  the  idea  of  a  feather-bed  tied 
around  with  a  string.  We  do  not  believe  that  the 
summary  banishment  of  the  graces  from  the  domestic 
circle  as  soon  as  the  first  baby  makes  its  appearance, 


47$  COMFORT    YOUR    HUSBAND, 

is  at  all  conducive  to  domestic  affection.  Nor  do  we 
think  that  there  is  any  need  of  so  doing.  Do  you 
ask  what  is  neatness  and  taste  in  dress  ?  Listen  to  a 
comment  of  Dr.  Johnson  :  "  The  best  evidence  that 
I  can  give  you  of  her  perfection  in  this  respect  is, 
that  one  can  never  remember  what  she  had  on." 

COMFORT  TOUR  HUSBAND. 

Comfort  your  husband  in  times  of  trial  and  trouble. 
"  It  is  not  so  thankworthy  for  thee  to  cheer  thy  hus- 
band when  he  can  cheer  thee,  or  himself  without 
thee,  while  the  day  of  prosperity  lasts  ;  but  then  to 
play  the  sweet  orator,  and  to  make  him  merry  when 
all  other  comforts  have  forsaken  him,  in  the  sad 
season  of  sickness,  of  sorrow ;  this  is  better  than  all 
music  and  melody0  Every  busy  bird,  while  summer 
lasts,  will  chirp  and  chatter  ;  but  to  sing  upon  the 
bare  bough  or  thorn-bush  when  the  leaves  are  gone, 
and  the  cold  winter  approacheth,  this  argues  a  wife 
truly  graceful,  truly  amiable  and  cheerful,  and,  next 
to  the  soul's  peace  with  God,  is  the  greatest  content 
under  the  sun." 

Another  great  duty  of  the  wife  is  to  make  a  special 
study  of  her  husband's  habits,  wants,  and  temper.  A 
man  has  generally  formed  many  of  his  habits  before 
marriage,  and  if  a  woman  is  wise,  she  will  try  to 
gratify  some  of  his  little  whims  and  fancies,  instead  of 
trying  to  oppose  them.  A  writer  in  the  Spectator 
has  truly  said,  "  A  woman  never  fairly  enjoys  her 
part  as  a  wife,  who  does  not  patronize  her  husband  a 
good  deal  on  small  points,  and  who  is  not  mildly 
conscious  of  her  own  superiority  to  him  in  that 


COMFORT    YOUR    HUSBAND.  479 

emancipation  of  spirit  which  makes  her  indulgence 
of  these  fancies  of  his  seem  so  like  spoiling  him.  If 
you  yourself  attach  any  real  importance  to  the  little 
matters  you  look  after  for  him,  so  far  it  is  not 
properly  indulging.  When  you  lament  over  him  as 
he  comes  in  wet  and  cold  from  a  snowstorm,  or  bathe 
his  head  when  it  aches,  with  cologne,  or  see  that  he 
has  his  tonic  at  the  right  hour  when  he  is  ill,  or  scold 
the  servants  for  disturbing  his  nap  before  he  sets  to 
his  evening  work,  or  '  break '  an  unexpected  bill  to  him, 
—in  all  these  cases  you  are  simply  giving  him  your 
hearty  sympathy, — not  petting  him.  But  it  is  in 
taking  care  that  his  food  is  as  he  likes  it ;  that  the 
odd  fancy  of  his  is  gratified  about  having  pudding 
with  roast  beef  ;  or  that  the  curious  dislike  to  being 
fidgeted  by  the  servant's  entering  to  draw  down  the 
blinds  and  close  the  shutters  in  his  study,  is  humored  ; 
or  that  his  unfortunate  taste  for  plenty  of  cream  in 
his  tea,  which  spoils  it  so  to  your  finer  perception,  is 
satisfied, — it  is  in  these  things  that  you  feel  full  de- 
light in  petting  your  husband,  and  that  your  face 
beams  '  with  something  of  angelic  light '  in  conceding 
to  his  frailty  what  you  feel  entirely  independent  of 
for  yourself." 

Dr.  Franklin  having  noticed  that  a  certain  me- 
chanic, who  worked  near  his  office,  was  always  happy 
and  smiling,  ventured  to  ask  him  the  secret  of  his 
constant  cheerfulness.  "  It's  no  secret,"  he  replied  ; 
"  I  have  got  one  of  the  best  of  wives  ;  when  I  go  to 
work  she  always  has  a  kind  word  of  encouragement 
for  me,  and  when  I  come  home,  she  meets  me  with  a 
smile  and  a  kiss,  and  the  tea  is  sure  to  be  ready,  and 
she  has  done  so  many  things  through  the  day  to 


480  DON'T  QUARREL. 

please  me,  that  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  speak 
an  unkind  word  to  anybody." 

DOWT  QUARREL. 

Remember,  it  always  takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel ; 
and  if  the  husband  happens  to  come  home  out  of 
sorts,  try  and  calm  him  down.  He  will  then  with  joy 
say,— 

"  Well  thou  playest  the  housewife's  part, 
And  all  thy  threads  with  magic  art 
Have  wound  themselves  about  my  heart." 

If  he  should  be  inclined  to  dispute  with  you,  ab- 
stain from  a  long  argument  with  him.  Let  it  be  a 
standing  motto,  never  to  irritate.  Gentleness  is  the 
best  way  to  carry  a  point,  and  to  keep  a  husband  in  a 
good  temper,  is  one  of  the  duties  of  a  wife.  As  one 
well  remarks, — "  A  wife  should  never  irritate  her 
husband  by  acting  in  opposition  to  his  prejudices.  A 
husband  usually  has  little  crotchety  notions,  about 
which  he  is  very  particular ;  these  may  be  in  them- 
selves of  no  moment,  but  if  they  are  continually 
thwarted,  they  will  soon  come  to  be  looked  upon  as 
weighty  matters,  and  will  frequently  lead  to  grave 
disputes."  Beware  lest  you  make  your  house  appear 
so  unpleasant  that  your  husband  goes  away  to  find 
comfort.  Let  not  your  husband  say  with  reference 
to  you, 

"  A  woman's  rosy  mouth  is  good  to  see; 

With  its  soft,  sculptured  lines  cut  clearly  out, 
A  '  thing  of  beauty  '  it  must  surely  be; 

But  for  the  rest,  there  may  exist  a  doubt. 
To  hear  it  scold  through  breakfast,  lunch,  and  tea, 


WIVES,    BE    DISCREET.  481 

Is  apt  to  put  the  best  digestion  out. 
No  'joy  forever,'  is  the  ruby  mouth 

That  blows  much  oftener  from  « nor-east  than  south." 


A  wife  should  always  remember   that  it  only  re- 
quires a 

"  Something  light  as  air — a  look, 

A  word  unkind,  or  wrongly  taken — 
For  love  that  tempest  never  shook, 

A  breath,  a  touch  like  this  has  shaken. 
And  ruder  words  will  soon  rush  in 

To  spread  the  breach  that  words  begin ; 
And  eyes  forget  the  gentle  ray 

They  wore  in  courtship's  smiling  day; 
And  voices  lose  the  love  that  shed 

A  tenderness  round  all  they  said ; 
Till  fast  declining,  one  by  one, 

The  sweetnesses  of  life  are  gone; 
And  hearts  so  lately  mingled,  seem 

Like  broken  clouds,  or  like  the  stream 
That,  smiling  left  the  mountain's  brow, 

As  though  its  waters  ne'er  could  sever, 
Yet,  ere  it  reach  the  plain  below, 

Breaks  into  floods  that  part  forever." 

WIVES,  BE  DISCREET. 

Should  a  quarrel  unfortunately  arise,  a  wife's  sole 
care  ought  to  be  to  confine  the  knowledge  of  it  to 
her  own  breast.  Many  silly  women,  in  irritation,  and 
in  a  desire  to  be  thought  martyrs,  no  sooner  have 
words  with  their  husbands,  then  they  rush  off  and  tell 
the  whole  story  to  some  chosen  confidant,  of  course 
making  their  husbands  appear  as  very  bad  persons. 

A  wife  should  have  no  confidants  ;  and  she  should 


482  WIVES,    BE    DISCREET. 

be  careful  to  conceal  any  little  discord  that  may 
occur  with  her  husband.  For  if  one  person  be  in- 
formed, the  scandal  spreads,  and  the  wife  has  ere 
long  bitter  cause  to  regret  having  lowered  both 
herself  and  her  husband  in  popular  estimation  ;  but 
worst  of  all,  a  husband  rarely  forgets,  and  never 
quite  forgives,  such  an  exposure,  which,  as  Richard- 
son observes,  "  is  sure  to  be  remembered  long  after 
the  honest  people  have  forgotten  it  themselves." 

Lastly,  in  the  matter  of  family  or  personal  ex- 
penses, a  wife  should  first  know  whether  her  husband 
can  spare  money  before  she  spends  it.  He  alone  can 
tell  what  he  can  spare  ;  and  if  he  gives  you  good 
reason  for  supposing  that  he  can't  afford  to  buy  this 
or  that,  be  satisfied.  Many  a  man  has  been  ruined 
by  allowing  his  wife  to  spend  before  he  has  earned 
his  money.  You  have  no  right  to  risk  the  happiness 
of  home  in  this  way.  The  woman  who  feels  that 
she  has  a  right  to  spend  every  penny  that  she  can 
get,  forgets  that  she  has  no  right  to  waste  or 
squander  it.  She  and  her  husband  are  partners,  and 
both  should  be  equally  anxious  to  keep  the  night- 
mare of  debt  far  away.  Women  ought  to  be  specially 
interested  in  watching  over  the  family  income,  and 
seeing  that  the  household  expense  falls  within  its 
limits,  instead  of  outside  of  them.  And  when  money 
is  denied  you,  never  get  sulky  over  it,  as  so  many 
are  in  the  habit  of  doing.  A  sulky  man  is  bad 
enough,  what,  then,  must  be  a  sulky  woman,  and  that 
woman  a  wife  ;  a  constant  inmate,  a  companion  day 
and  night  ?  Only  think  of  the  delight  of  sitting  at 
the  same  table  and  sleeping  in  the  same  bed  for  a 
week,  and  not  exchanging  a  word  all  the  while ! 


WIVES,    BE    DISCREET. 


483 


There  is  many  a  man  who  has  had  occasion  to  say 
with  more  of  sadness  than  glee : 

"  Heaven  bless  the  wives,  they  fill  our  hives 

With  little  bees  and  honey! 
They  soothe  life's  shocks,  they  mend  our  socks, 
But — don't  they  spend  the  money!" 


484  "HOME." 


"HOME.* 


"I  love  the  dear  old  home!     My  mother  lived  there! 
And  the  sunlight  seems  to  me  brighter  far 
Than  wheresoever  else.     I  know  the  forms 
Of  every  tree  and  mountain,  hill  and  dell; 
Its  waters  gurgle  like  a  tongue  I  know — 
It  is  my  home." 

— FRANCES  K.  BUTLER. 


|HE  very  word  has  a  soothing  cadence  con- 
nected with  its  pronunciation.  Home  con- 
stitutes the  magic  circle  within  which  the 
weary  spirit  finds  refuge ;  it  is  the  sacred 
asylum  to  which  the  careworn  heart  re- 
treats, to  find  rest  from  the  toils  and 
disquietude  of  life  It  is  a  word  which  touches  every 
fiber  of  the  soul,  and  strikes  every  chord  of  the 
human  heart  with  its  angelic  fingers.  Nothing  but 
death  can  break  its  spell.  What  tender  associations 
are  linked  with  home  !  What  pleasing  images  and 
deep  emotion  it  awakens!  It  calls  up  the  fondest 
memories  of  life,  and  opens  in  our  nature  the  purest, 
deepest,  richest  fount  of  consecrated  thought  and 
feeling. 

Some  years  ago,  about  twenty  thousand  people 
gathered  in  the  old  Castle  Garden,  New  York,  to 
hear  Jenny  Lind  sing,  as  no  other  songstress  ever 


"HOME."  485 

had  sung,  the  sublime  compositions  of  Beethoven, 
Handel,  etc.  At  length  the  Swedish  Nightingale 
thought  of  her  home,  paused,  and  seemed  to  fold  her 
wings  for  a  higher  flight.  She  began  with  deep  emo- 
tion to  pour  forth  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  The 
audience  could  not  stand  it.  An  uproar  of  applause 
stopped  the  music.  Tears  gushed  from  those  thou- 
sands like  rain.  Beethoven  and  Handel  were  forgot- 
ten. After  a  moment,  the  song  came  again, 
seemingly  as  from  heaven,  almost  angelic.  Home — 
that  was  the  word  that  bound  as  with  a  spell,  twenty 
thousand  souls,  and  Howard  Payne  triumphed  over 
the  great  masters  of  song.  When  we  look  at  the 
brevity  and  simplicity  of  this  home  song,  we  are 
ready  to  ask,  what  is  the  charm  that  lies  concealed  in 
it?  The  answer  is  easy.  Next  to  religion,  the  deep- 
est and  most  ineradicable  sentiment  in  the  human 
soul  is  that  of  the  home  affections.  Every  heart 
vibrates  to  this  theme. 

There  is  no  happiness  in  life,  there  is  no  misery, 
like  that  growing  out  of  the  dispositions  which  conse- 
crate or  desecrate  a  home.  He  is  happiest,  be  he 
king  or  peasant,  who  finds  peace  in  his  home.  Home 
should  be  made  so  truly  home,  that  the  weary, 
tempted  heart  could  turn  toward  it  anywhere  on  the 
dusty  highway  of  life,  and  receive  light  and  strength. 
The  affections  and  loves  of  home  constitute  the 
poetry  of  human  life,  and,  so  far  as  our  present 
existence  is  concerned,  with  all  the  domestic  relations, 
are  worth  more  than  all  other  social  ties.  They  give 
the  first  throb  to  the  heart,  and  unseal  the  deep 
fountains  of  its  love.  Home  is  the  chief  school  of 
human  virtue.  Its  responsibilities,  joys,  sorrows, 


486  THE    HOME    CIRCLE. 

smiles,  tears,  hopes,  and  solicitudes,  form  the  chief 
interest  of  human  life.  When  regard  for  home 
ceases,  virtue  dies. 

THE   HOME  CIRCLE. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  world  which  is  so  venerable 
as  the  character  of  parents ;  nothing  so  intimate  and 
endearing  as  the  relation  of  husband  and  wife ; 
nothing  so  tender  as  that  of  children  ;  nothing  so 
lovely  as  those  of  brothers  and  sisters.  The  little 
circle  is  made  one  by  a  singular  union  of  the  affec- 
tions. The  only  fountain  in  the  wilderness  of  life 
where  man  drinks  of  water  totally  unmixed  with 
bitter  ingredients,  is  that  which  gushes  for  him  in  the 
calm  and  shady  recess  of  domestic  life.  Pleasure 
may  heat  the  heart  with  artificial  excitement ;  ambi- 
tion may  delude  it  with  golden  dreams ;  war  may 
eradicate  its  fine  fibers,  and  diminish  its  sensitive- 
ness ;  but  it  is  only  domestic  love  that  can  render  it 
truly  happy. 

Even  as  the  sunbeam  is  composed  of  millions  of 
minute  rays,  so  the  home-life  must  be  constituted  of 
little  tendernesses,  kind  looks,  sweet  laughter,  gentle 
words,  loving  counsels.  It  must  not  be  like  the 
torch-blaze  of  natural  excitement,  which  is  easily 
quenched,  but  like  the  serene,  chastened  light,  which 
burns  as  safely  in  the  dry  east  wind  as  in  the  stillest 
atmosphere.  Let  each  cultivate  the  mutual  confidence 
which  is  a  gift  capable  of  increase  and  improvement, 
and  soon  it  will  be  found  that  kindliness  will  spring 
up  on  every  side,  displacing  constitutional  unsuita- 
bility,  want  of  mutual  knowledge,  even  as  we  have 


CHARACTER   OF    HOME.  487 

seen  sweet  violets  and  primroses  dispelling  the  gloom 
of  the  gray  sea-rocks. 

CHARACTER   OF  HOME. 

Much  of  a  man's  energy  and  success,  as  well  as 
happiness,  depends  upon  the  character  of  his  home. 
Secure  there,  he  goes  forth  bravely  to  encounter  the 
trials  of  life.  It  is  his  point  of  rest.  It  is  a  reserved 
power  to  fall  back  upon.  Home,  and  home  friends  ! 
How  dear  they  are  to  us  all !  When  all  other  friends 
prove  false,  home  friends,  removed  from  every  bias 
but  love,  are  the  steadfast  and  sure  stays  of  our  peace 
of  soul  ;  are  best  and  dearest  when  the  hour  is  dark- 
est, and  the  danger  of  evil  the  greatest.  But  if  one 
have  none  to  care  for  him  at  home ;  if  there  be 
neglect,  or  love  of  absence,  or  coldness  in  our  home 
and  on  our  hearth,  then,  even  if  we  prosper  without, 
it  is  dark  indeed,  within  !  It  is  not  seldom  that  we 
can  trace  alienation  and  dissipation  to  this  source. 
If  no  wife  or  sister  care  for  him  who  returns  from  his 
toil,  well  may  he  despair  of  life's  best  blessings. 
Home  is  nothing  but  a  name,  without  true  friends. 

The  sweetest  type  of  heaven  is  home ;  nay,  heaven 
itself  is  the  home  for  whose  acquisition  we  are  to 
strive  the  most  strongly.  Home,  in  one  form  and 
another,  is  the  great  object  of  life.  It  stands  at  the 
end  of  every  day's  labor,  and  beckons  us  to  its 
bosom  ;  and  life  would  be  cheerless  and  meaningless, 
did  we  not  discern,  across  the  river  that  divides  it 
from  the  life  beyond,  glimpses  of  pleasant  mansions 
prepared  for  us  in  a  land  where  the  sweet  sunshine  of 
love  is  perpetual. 


488  CHARACTER    OF    HOME. 

"  Like  the  great  rock's  grateful  shade 

In  a  strange  and  weary  land, 
Like  the  desert's  cooling  spring 

To  a  faint  and  drooping  band, 
So  to  all  will  memories  come 
Of  the  peaceful  hours  at  home! 

"  To  the  sailor  on  the  sea, 

As  the  midnight  watch  he  keeps, 
Some  sweet  thought  of  home  will  be 

With  him  if  he  wakes  or  sleeps. 
Memories  of  mother-love 
Follow  where  his  footsteps  rove! 

"  On  the  bloody  field  of  death, 

Where  brave  hearts  beat  faint  and  low, 

Heroes  with  their  parting  breath 
Say  some  word  before  they  go, 

That  a  comrade,  sad  and  lone, 

Will  bear  back  to  those  at  home! 

"  Hours  at  home !     Can  we  forget 

Aught  that  makes  their  memory  dear? 

Youth  and  childhood  linger  yet 
With  their  skies,  so  brightly  clear, 

And  we  bless,  where'er  we  roam, 

All  that  speaks  of  hours  at  home." 

Our  nature  demands  a  home.  It  is  the  first  essen- 
tial element  of  our  social  being.  Life  cannot  be 
complete  without  home  relations  ;  there  would  be  no 
proper  equilibrium  of  life  and  character  without  the 
home  influence.  The  strength  of  this  influence  may 
be  estimated  by  the  power  of  its  impressions.  It  is 
the  prerogative  of  home  to  make  the  first  impression 
upon  our  nature,  and  to  give  that  nature  its  first 
direction  onward  and  upward.  It  uncovers  the  moral 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  489 

fountain,  chooses  its  channel,  and  gives  the  stream  its 
first  impulse.  It  makes  the  "  first  stamp,  and  sets  the 
first  seal"  upon  the  plastic  nature  of  the  child.  It 
gives  the  first  tone  to  our  desires,  and  furnishes 
ingredients  that  will  either  sweeten  or  embitter  the 
whole  cup  of  life.  These  impressions  are  indelible 
and  durable  as  life.  Compared  with  them,  other  im- 
pressions are  like  those  made  upon  sand  or  wax.  To 
erase  them,  we  must  remove  every  strata  of  our 
being.  Even  the  infidel  lives  under  the  holy  influ- 
ence of  a  pious  mother's  impressions.  John  Ran- 
dolph could  never  shake  off  the  restraining  influence 
of  a  little  prayer  his  mother  taught  him  when  a  child. 
It  preserved  him  from  the  clutches  of  avowed 
infidelity. 

HOME  INFLUENCE. 

Thus  the  home  influence  is  either  a  blessing  or  a 
curse.  It  cannot  be  neutral.  In  either  case  it  is 
mighty,  commencing  with  our  birth,  going  with  us 
through  life,  clinging  to  us  in  death,  and  reaching 
into  the  eternal  world.  Like  the  calm,  deep  stream, 
it  moves  on  in  silent,  but  overwhelming  power.  It 
strikes  its  roots  deep  into  the  human,  heart,  and 
spreads  its  branches  wide  over  our  whole  being. 
Like  the  lily  that  braves  the  tempest,  and  "  the 
Alpine  flower  that  leans  its  cheek  on  the  bosom  of 
eternal  snows,"  it  is  exerted  amid  the  wildest  storms 
of  life,  and  breathes  a  softening  spell  in  our  bosom 
even  when  a  heartless  world  is  freezing  up  the  foun- 
tains of  sympathy  and  love.  It  is  governing,  restrain- 
ing, attracting,  and  traditional.  It  holds  the  empire 
of  the  heart,  and  rules  the  life.  It  restrains  the 


490  HOME    INFLUENCE. 

wayward  passions  of  the  child,  and  checks  him  in  his 
mad  career  of  ruin. 

Our  habits,  too,  are  formed  under  the  moulding 
power  of  home.  The  "  tender  twig"  is  there  bent, 
the  spirit  shaped,  principles  implanted,  and  the  whole 
character  is  formed,  until  it  becomes  a  habit.  Who 
does  not  feel  this  influence  of  home  upon  all  his 
habits  of  life  ?  The  gray-haired  father  who  wails  in 
his  second  infancy,  feels  the  traces  of  his  childhood 
home  in  his  spirit,  desires,  and  habits.  The  most 
illustrious  statesmen,  the  most  distinguished  warriors, 
the  most  eloquent  ministers,  and  the  greatest  bene- 
factors of  human  kind,  owe  their  greatness  to  the 
fostering  influence  of  home.  Napoleon  felt  this 
when  he  said,  "  What  France  needs  is  good  mothers." 
The  homes  of  the  American  revolution  made  the 
men  of  the  revolution.  Their  influence  reaches  yet 
far  into  the  inmost  frame  and  constitution  of  our 
republic.  • 

Place  does  not  constitute  home.  Many  a  gilded 
palace  and  sea  of  luxury  is  not  a  home.  Many  a 
flower-girt  dwelling  and  splendid  mansion  lacks  all 
the  essentials  of  home.  A  hovel  is  often  more  a 
home  than  a  palace.  If  the  spirit  of  congenial 
friendship  link  not  the  hearts  of  the  inmates  of  a 
dwelling,  it  is  not  a  home.  If  love  reign  not  there  ; 
if  charity  spread  not  her  downy  mantle  over  all ;  if 
peace  prevail  not ;  if  contentment  be  not  a  meek  and 
merry  dweller  therein  ;  if  virtue  rear  not  her  beauti- 
ful children,  and  religion  come  not  in  her  white  robe 
of  gentleness  to  lay  her  hand  in  benediction  on  every 
head,  the  home  is  not  complete. 

We  are  all  in  the  habit  of  building  for  ourselves 


MAKE    HOME   CHEERFUL.  49! 

ideal  homes.  But  they  are  generally  made  up  of 
outward  things, — a  house,  a  garden,  a  carriage,  and 
the  ornaments  and  appendages  of  luxury.  And  if, 
in  our  lives,  we  do  not  realize  our  ideas,  we  make 
ourselves  miserable,  and  our  friends  miserable.  But 
the  true  idea  of  home  is  a  quiet,  secluded  spot,  where 
loving  hearts  dwell,  set  apart  and  dedicated  to  intel- 
lectual and  moral  improvement.  It  is  not  a  formal 
school  of  staid  solemnity  and  rigid  discipline,  where 
virtue  is  made  a  task,  and  progress  a  sharp  necessity, 
but  a  place  where  obedience  is  a  pleasure,  discipline 
a  joy,  and  improvement  a  self-wrought  delight, 

MAKE  HOME  CHEERFUL, 

Every  home  should  be  cheerful.  Innocent  joy 
should  reign  in  every  heart.  There  should  be  do- 
mestic amusements,  fireside  pleasures,  quiet  and  sim- 
ple it  may  be,  but  such  as  shall  make  home  happy, 
and  not  leave  it  that  irksome  place  which  will  oblige 
the  youthful  spirit  to  look  elsewhere  for  joy.  There 
are  a  thousand  unobtrusive  ways  in  which  we  may  add 
to  the  cheerfulness  of  home.  The  very  modulations 
of  the  voice  will  often  make  a  wonderful  difference. 
How  many  shades  of  feeling  are  expressed  by  the 
voice !  No  delicately  tuned  harpstring  can  awaken 
more  pleasure ;  no  grating  discord  can  pierce  with 
more  pain. 

Let  parents  talk  much  and  talk  well  at  home.  We 
sometimes  see  parents,  who  are  the  life  of  every 
company  which  they  enter,  dull,  silent,  and  uninter- 
esting at  home  among  the  children.  If  they  have 
not  mental  activity  and  physical  vigor,  sufficient  for 


MAKE    HOME   CHEERFUL. 

both,  let  them  first  provide  for  their  own  household. 
It  is  better  to  instruct  children  and  make  them  happy 
at  home,  than  try  to  charm  strangers,  or  amuse  friends. 
The  youth  who  does  not  love  home  is  always  in 
danger. 

Fathers  and  mothers,  if  you  would  not  have  your 
children  lost  to  you  in  after  life, — if  you  would  have 
your  married  daughters  not  forget  their  old  home  in 
the  new  one, — if  you  would  have  your  sons  lend  a 
hand  to  keep  you  in  the  old  rose-covered  cottage,  in- 
stead of  letting  you  go  to  the  naked  walls  of  a  work- 
house,— make  home  happy  to  them  when  they  are 
young.  Send  them  out  into  the  world  in  the  full  be- 
lief that  there  is  "no  place  like  home."  And  even 
if  the  old  home  should,  in  the  course  of  time,  be 
pulled  down,  or  be  lost  to  your  children,  it  will  still 
live  in  their  memories.  The  kind  looks,  and  kind 
words,  and  thoughtful  love  of  those  who  once  in- 
habited it,  will  not  pass  away. 

Poor,  tempest-tossed  Goldsmith,  writing  of 

"Sweet  Auburn!  loveliest  village  of  the  plain, 
Where  health  and  plenty  cheered  the    laboring  swain, 
Where  smiling  Spring  its  earliest  visits  paid, 
And  parting  Summer's  lingering  blooms  delayed, 
Dear,  lovely  bower  of  innocence  and  ease, 
Seat  of  my  youth,  when  every  sport  could  please," 

says,  with  a  touch  of  sad  pathos  mingled  with  deep 
and  inexpressible  fondness  : 

"  In  all  my  wanderings  round  this  world  of  care, 
In  all  my  griefs, — and  God  has  given  my  share — 

•  I  still  had  hopes  my  latest  hours  to  crown, 
And  in  these  humble  bowers  to  lay  me  down, 


WOMAN    AND    HOME.  493 

To  husband  out  life's  tapers  at  the  close, 
And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting,  by  repose. 
And,  as  a  hare,  whom  hounds  and  horns  pursue, 
Pants  to  the  place  from  whence  at  first  she  flew, 
I  still  had  hopes,  my  long  vexations  past, 
There  to  return- — and  die  at  home  at  last." 

And  such  is  the  feeling  of  every  human  heart,  unless 
that  feeling  has  been  killed  by  parental  unkindness 
and  cruelty,  or  by  personal  degradation  and  vice. 

WOMAN  AND  HOME. 

In  a  true  home,  woman  is  the  God-ordained  queen. 
Nature  placed  her  on  that  throne,  and  she  practically 
rules  or  ruins  her  kingdom  and  its  subjects.  Accord- 
ingly, home  takes  its  hue  and  happiness  principally 
from  her.  If  she  is  in  the  best  sense  womanly, — if 
she  is  true  and  tender,  loving  and  heroic,  patient  and 
self-devoted, — she  consciously  or  unconsciously  or- 
ganizes and  puts  in  operation  a  set  of  influences  that 
do  more  to  mould  the  destiny  of  the  nation  than  any 
man,  uncrowned  by  power  or  eloquence,  can  possibly 
effect.  The  men  of  the  nation  are  what  their 
mothers  make  them,  as  a  rule  ;  and  the  voice  which 
those  men  speak  in  the  expression  of  their  power,  is 
the  voice  of  the  women  who  bore  and  bred  them. 

There  can  be  no  substitute  for  this.  There  is  no 
other  possible  way  in  which  the  women  of  the  nation 
can  organize  their  influence  and  power,  that  will  tell 
so  beneficially  upon  society  and  the  State.  Neither 
woman  nor  the  nation  can  afford  to  have  home  de- 
moralized, or  in  any  way  deteriorated  by  the  loss  of 
her  presence,  or  the  lessening  of  her  influence  there. 


494  WOMAN    AND    HOME. 

As  a  nation  we  rise  or  fall  as  the  character  of  our 
homes,  presided  over  by  woman,  rises  or  falls ;  and 
the  best  gauge  of  our  prosperity  is  to  be  found  in  the 
measure  by  which  these  homes  find  multiplication  in 
the  land.  In  true  marriage,  and  the  struggle  after  the 
highest  ideal  of  home  life,  is  to  be  found  the  solution 
of  most  of  the  ugly  problems  that  confront  the 
present  generation. 

But  there  is  a  type  of  American  womanhood  of 
which  all  good  people  should  be  ashamed.  It  is 
found  chiefly  in  large  cities.  It  lives  in  hotels  and 
boarding-houses  ;  it  travels,  it  haunts  the  fashionable 
watering-places  ;  it  is  prominent  at  the  opera  and  the 
ball  ;  in  short,  it  is  wherever  it  can  show  itself  and 
its  clothes.  It  rejoices  over  a  notice  of  itself  in  a 
newspaper  as  among  the  proudest  and  most  grateful 
of  its  social  achievements.  Its  grand  first  question 
is  :  "  Wherewithal  shall  I  be  clothed  ?"  And  when 
that  is  answered  as  well  as  it  can  be,  the  next  is  : 
"  How  and  where  can  I  show  my  clothes,  so  as  to  at- 
tract the  most  men,  distress  the  greatest  number  of 
women,  and  make  the  most  stunning  social  sensa- 
tion ?"  We  have  all  seen  these  women  at  home  and 
away  ;  and  their  presumption,  boldness,  vanity,  idle- 
ness, display,  and  lack  of  all  noble  and  womanly  aims, 
are  a  disgrace  to  the  city  which  produces  them,  and 
the  country  after  whose  name  they  call  themselves. 

Of  course  there  is  a  sufficient  cause  for  the  pro- 
duction of  this  type  of  woman,  and  it  is  to  be  found 
in  her  circumstances  and  way  of  life.  It  is  prevalent 
among  those  who  have  suddenly  become  rich,  among 
those  of  humble  beginnings  and  insufficient  breeding 
and  education.  It  is  fostered  in  boarding  houses  and 


HOUSEKEEPING.  495 

hotels, — those  hot-beds  of  jealousy,  and  personal  and 
social  rivalry  and  aimless  idleness.  The  woman  who 
finds  herself  housed,  and  clothed,  and  fed,  and  petted, 
and  furnished  with  money  for  artificial  as  well  as  real 
wants,  without  the  lifting  of  a  finger,  or  a  burden  of 
a  care,  and  without  the  culture  of  head  or  heart  that 
leads  her  to  seek  for  the  higher  satisfactions  of 
womanhood,  becomes  in  the  most  natural  way  pre- 
cisely what  we  have  described.  It  would  be  unnat- 
ural for  her  to  become  anything  else.  The  simple 
truth  is,  that  unless  women  have  a  routine  of  duty 
that  diverts  their  thoughts  from  themselves,  and 
gives  them  something  to  think  of  besides  dress,  and 
the  exhibition  of  it,  they  degenerate. 

HO  USEKEEPING. 

Dr.  Holland  says:  '•  There  is  no  man  who  can  af- 
ford to  pay  a  fair  price  for  board,  who  cannot  afford  to 
keep  house ;  and  housekeeping,  though  it  be  ever  so 
humble,  is  the  most  natural,  and  the  healthiest  orifice 
to  which  woman  is  ever  called.  There  is  no  one 
thing  that  would  do  so  much  to  elevate  womanhood 
as  a  universal  secession  from  boarding-house  and 
hotel  life,  and  a  universal  entrance  upon  separate 
homes.  Such  a  step  would  increase  the  stock  of 
happiness,  improve  health  of  body  and  health  of  mind, 
and  raise  the  standard  of  morals  and  manners. 

'  The  devil  always  finds  work  for  idle  hands  to  do, 
whether  the  hands  belong  to  men  or  women  ;  but 
American  men  are  not  apt  to  be  idle.  They  are  ab- 
sorbed in  work  from  early  until  late,  and  leave  their 
idle  wives  cooped  up  in  rooms  that  cost  them  no 


496  WOMAN'S  TRUE  POSITION. 

care,  to  get  rid  of  the  lingering  time  as  they  can, 
To  live  in  public,  to  be  on  dress  parade  every  day,  to 
be  always  part  and  parcel  of  a  gossiping  multitude, 
to  live  aimlessly  year  after  year,  with  thoughts  con- 
centrated upon  one's  person,  and  one's  selfish  de- 
lights, to  be  perpetually  without  a  routine  of  healthy 
duty,  is  to  take  the  broadest  and  briefest  road  to  the 
degradation  of  all  that  is  admirable  and  lovable  in 
womanhood.  It  is  to  make,  by  the  most  natural 
process,  that  gay,  gaudy,  loud,  frivolous,  pretentious, 
vain,  intriguing,  unsatisfied,  and  unhappy  creature, 
which  is  known  and  recognized  everywhere  as  the 
fashionable  woman." 

WO  MAWS  TRUE  POSITION. 

We  greatly  fear  that  multitudes  of  women  in  these 
days  do  not  understand  their  true  position  and  work 
in  life  ;  do  not  realize  that  God  intended  them  to  be 
a  kind  of  connecting  link  between  man  and  all  higher 
good,  and  the  guardian  and  preserver  of  the  nobler, 
higher,  diviner  part  of  human  life  ;  intended  to  have 
them  woo  men  back  from  cold,  hard  selfishness  to  a 
life  of  tenderness,  beauty,  purity,  truthfulness,  and 
love.  Nor  do  they  realize  that  it  is  possible  for 
them,  as  the  preservers  of  the  world's  heart-life,  to 
become  its  very  worst  destroyers  !  Think  of  this, 
woman,  when  you  try  to  outdo  your  neighbor  in  per- 
sonal and  household  display,  and  ask  yourself 
whether  you  are  fulfilling  your  real  mission  in  so  do- 
ing? Instead  of  being  simply  animated  bundles  of 
dry-goods,  ray  out  from  your  heart  and  life  a  glow  of 
power  and  love  that  shall  tinge  the  world  with  a 


WOMAN  S   TRUE    POSITION.  497 

brighter  luster,  and  lead  it  up  to  a  higher  walk  in 
tender  sympathy  and  pure  benevolence.  You  can  do 
it  as  no  other  being  on  earth  can,  and  God  will  hold 
you  responsible  for  not  doing  it.  Instead  of  trying 
to  please  simply,  try  to  make  men  better,  more  chari- 
table, less  envious,  with  more  of  tender  pity  toward 
the  unfortunate,  more  of  truth  and  goodness  in  their 
hearts. 

Says  a  modern  writer  :  "  If  an  active  competition 
with  man  in  professional  or  mercantile  life  will  fit 
woman  for  home  life,  and  help  to  endow  her  with 
those  virtues  whose  illustration  is  so  essential  to  her 
best  influence  in  the  family,  let  her  by  all  means  en- 
gage in  this  competition.  If  the  studies  and  appren- 
ticeships necessary  to  make  such  a  life  as  this  success- 
ful are  those  which  peculiarly  fit  women  to  be  wives 
and  mothers,  and  prepare  them  to  preside  over  the 
homes  of  the  people,  let  us  change  our  educational 
institutions  to  meet  the  necessity,  and  do  it  at  once. 
If  woman's  power  over  the  ballot-box,  now  exercised 
by  shaping  the  voter,  and  lifting  the  moral  tone  of 
the  nation  at  home,  will  be  made  better  and  more 
unselfish  by  giving  her  a  hand  in  political  strife, 
and  the  chance  for  an  office,  let  her  vote,  by  all 
means.  If  those  virtues  and  traits  of  character 
which  are  universally  recognized  as  womanly  are 
nurtured  by  participation  in  public  life, — if  woman 
grows  modest,  sweet,  truthful,  and  trustworthy  by 
familiarity  with  political  intrigues,  or  by  engaging  in 
public  debates, — if  her  home  grows  better  and  more 
influential  for  good  in  consequence  of  her  absence 
from  it,  then  we  advocate  without  qualification  her 
entrance  upon  public  life  at  once,  and  demand  that  the 
33 


498  POWER    OF    WOMAN    OVER    MAN. 

broadest  place  shall  be  made  for  her.  If  the  number 
of  true  marriages  is  to  be  increased  by  a  policy  that 
tends  to  make  the  sexes  competitors  with  each  other 
for  the  prizes  of  wealth  and  place,  and  secures  to  any 
marked  degree,  their  independence  of  each  other, 
then  let  that  policy  be  adopted." 

POWER  OF    WOMAN  OVER  MAN. 

In  her  own  true  and  proper  sphere,  the  power  of 
woman  over  man  is  very  great,  and  is  always  posi- 
tively exercised  for  good  or  for  evil.  She  can  be- 
come an  angel  or  a  demon  to  lead  men  on — to  heaven 
or  hell.  As  has  been  truly  remarked,  the  mind  of 
man  is  so  constituted  as  to  feel  most  sensitively  the 
praise  or  the  blame  of  woman.  It  is  hard  for  any 
man  to  feel  that  he  rests  under  the  censure  of  all  the 
good  women  by  whom  he  is  surrounded.  A  man 
who  has  not  some  woman,  somewhere,  who  believes 
in  him,  trusts  him  and  loves  him,  has  reached  a  point 
where  self-respect  is  gone. 

All  men  who  deserve  the  name  of  men,  desire  the 
respect  of  women  ;  and  when  a  man  finds  himself  in 
a  position  which  fixes  upon  him  the  disapproval  of  a 
whole  community  of  women,  a  power  is  brought  to 
bear  upon  him  which  he  certainly  cannot  ignore,  and 
which  he  finds  it  difficult  to  resist.  The  power  of 
woman,  simply  as  woman,  has  had  too  many  illus- 
trations in  history  to  need  discussion.  A  man's  self- 
respect  can  only  be  nursed  to  its  best  estate  in  the 
approval  of  the  finer  sense  and  quicker  conscience  of 
the  women  who  know  him.  Therefore,  when  women 
for  any  reason,  leave  the  home  as  their  true  post  of 


TEMPTATION.  499 

honor  and  of  duty,  they  do  thereby  immediately 
lessen  the  quantity  and  weaken  the  quality  of  their 
power,  in  exact  proportion  to  the  extent  of  their 
wanderings. 

TEMPTATION. 

A  temptation  often  conies  to  many  women  in  the 
home,  which  is  truthfully  and  beautifully  expressed  in 
the  following  poem  by  Ada  V.  Leslie.  The  tempta- 
tion is  all  the  more  dangerous,  because  it  takes  on,  to 
an  aspiring  woman's  ambition,  the  garb  and  form  of 
an  angel  of  light,  and  frequently  leads  her  away  from 
paths  of  peace  to  rugged  and  toilsome  ascents  up 
the  sides  of  a  cold  and  desolate  mountain  : 

"  Last  night  my  darling  said  to  me, 

With  flushing  cheek  and  downcast  eye, 
You  men  are  always  gay,  while  we 
Can  only  sit  and  sigh. 

"  We  laugh  and  jest,  to  lure  you  on 

To  say  '  I  love,'  with  many  a  wile; 
But  oh!  beneath  the  jesting  tone, 
The  glances  and  the  smile — 

"  Our  hearts  are  sad — a  vague  unrest 

Fills  all  the  pauses  of  our  life; 
Not  always  can  a  faithful  breast, 
And  sacred  name  of  wife 

**  Bring  peace  and  joy ;  a  greater  good 

Shines  out  afar  on  dizzy  heights; 
A  bitter  longing  stirs  our  blood, 
Through  all  the  days  and  nights; 

**  As  one  within  a  prison  chained, 

Who  sees  his  comrades  fight  and  fall, 


500  TEMPTATION. 

And  weeps  to  see  his  share  unclaimed 
Of  that  which  is  for  all — 

«  The  right  to  do,  the  right  to  be 

A  nobler  thing  than  toy  or  slave; 
A  something  great,  and  good,  and  free, 
Whose  rest  is  not  the  grave. 

"  E'en  so  we  yearn — ah  me,  you  smile! 

And  I  have  shown  my  heart  in  vain; 
But  then,  I've  learnt  this  truth  the  while, 
You  care  not  for  our  pain. 

"Tis  wiser  far  by  stern  control — 

By  bitter,  rigid  discipline, 
To  tutor  woman's  loving  soul 
To  hopes  and  thoughts  divine. 

"  Tis  better,  nobler,  to  forego 

A  bride's  delight,  that  sweet,  vague  dream, 
Than  waken  up  to  married  woe, 
Which  has  no  Lethean  stream." 

"  I  stretched  to  her  my  loving  arms — 

I  gave  a  pleading  look  and  said, 
'  Here  is  your  home! '    She  sank  therein, 
Her  false  ambition  dead !  " 

No  man  or  woman,  with  mature  mind  and  heart, 
having  had  any  considerable  experience  in  the  ways 
and  trials  of  life,  but  will  agree  that  this  maiden's 
final  decision,  as  depicted  in  the  last  verse,  was  a  wise 
and  proper  one.  It  is  right  and  truly  noble  for  all 
women  to  long  to  be  something  more  "  than  toy  or 
slave,"  but  it  does  not  follow  that  to  be  this,  she 
must  needs  "  forego  a  bride's  delight,"  or  step  down 
from  her  home  throne.  On  the  contrary,  "  The  right 
to  do,  the  right  to  be,  something  great  and  good  and 


TEMPTATION.  5OI 

free,"  is  a  right  (or  rather  a  privilege)  which  can  be 
exercised  and  enjoyed  nowhere  on  earth  so  fully  and 
advantageously  as  in  the  home  circle. 

To  leave  that  sacred,  holy,  happy  spot,  and  rush 
out  blindly  and  wildly  after  some  imaginary  good 
which  "shines  afar  on  dizzy  heights,"  is  to  throw  down 
the  scepter  of  her  power,  and  deliberately  trample 
'under  foot  all  the  leverage  of  influence  which  God 
and  her  own  feminine  nature  have  placed  at  her 
disposal. 

The  home,  to  any  true  woman,  need  never  be  "  a 
prison,"  unless  she  herself  makes  it  thus  by  an  un- 
wise choice  of  a  life-partner,  or  by  a  "  vague  unrest," 
after  the  home  duties  and  pleasures  are  once  entered 
upon.  But  on  the  other  hand,  home  is  just  the 
place  above  all  others  where  "hopes  and  thoughts 
divine  "  are  born,  nurtured,  matured,  and  carried  into 
practical  realization.  And  so  the  lines  of  Young  are 
verified  anew,  that 

"  The  first  sure  symptoms  of  a  mind  in  health, 
Is  rest  of  heart  and  pleasure  felt  at  home." 


502 


THE    MOTHER. 


THE  MOTHER. 


"  My  mother!     Manhood's  anxious  brow 

And  sterner  cares  have  long  been  mine, 
Yet  turn  I  to  thee  fondly  now, 

As  when  upon  thy  bosom's  shrine 
My  infant  griefs  were  gently  hushed  to  rest, 
And  thy  low-whispered  prayers  my  slumber  blessed." 

— GEO.  W.  BETHUNE. 


ISHOP  THOMSON  expressed  the  feeling 
of  universal  human  nature  when  he  wrote  : 
"  There  is  no  velvet  so  soft  as  a  mother's 
lap,  no  rose  so  lovely  as  her  smile,  no  path 
so  flowery  as  that  imprinted  with  her  foot- 
steps." Men  and  women  frequently  forget 
each  other,  but  everybody  remembers  mother.  The 
very  name  is  so  entwined  round  our  hearts  that  they 
must  cease  to  throb  ere  we  forget  it !  'Tis  our  first 
love  ;  'tis  part  of  religion  !  Nature  has  set  the  mother 
upon  such  a  pinnacle,  that  our  infant  eyes  and  arms 
are  first  uplifted  to  it ;  we  cling  to  it  in  manhood ; 
we  almost  worship  it  in  old  age.  He  who  can  enter 
an  apartment  and  behold  the  tender  babe  feeding  on 
its  mother's  beauty,  nourished  by  the  tide  of  life 
which  flows  through  her  generous  veins,  without  a 
panting  bosom  and  a  grateful  eye,  is  no  man,  but  a 
monster. 


WOMAN'S    CHARMS.  503 

The  mother  can  take  man's  whole  nature  under  her 
control.  She  becomes  what  she  has  been  called, 
"The  Divinity  of  Infancy."  Her  smile  is  its  sun- 
shine, her  words  its  mildest  law,  until  sin  and  the 
world  have  steeled  the  heart  She  can  shower  around 
her  the  most  genial  of  all  influences,  and  from  the 
time  when  she  first  laps  her  little  one  in  Elysium  by 
clasping  him  to  her  bosom — "its  first  paradise" — • 
to  the  moment  when  that  child  is  independent  of  her 
aid,  or  perhaps,  like  Washington,  directs  the  destinies 
of  millions,  her  smile,  her  word,  her  wish,  is  an 
inspiring  force.  A  sentence  of  encouragement  or 
praise  is  a  joy  for  a  day.  It  spreads  light  upon  all 
faces,  and  renders  a  mother's  power  more  and  more 
charm-like.  So  intense  is  that  power,  that  the  mere 
remembrance  of  a  praying  mother's  hand  laid  on  the 
head  in  infancy,  has  held  back  a  son  from  guilt  when 
passion  had  waxed  strong. 

WOMAN'S  CHARMS. 

Woman's  charms  are  certainly  many  and  powerful. 
The  expanding  rose,  just  bursting  into  beauty,  has  an 
irresistible  bewitchingness ;  the  blooming  bride,  led 
triumphantly  to  the  hymeneal  altar,  awakens  admira- 
tion and  interest,  and  the  blush  of  her  cheek  fills 
with  delight ;  but  the  charm  of  maternity  is  more 
sublime  than  all  these.  Heaven  has  imprinted  on 
the  mother's  face  something  beyond  this  world,  some- 
thing which  claims  kindred  with  the  skies — the 
angelic  smile,  the  tender  look,  the  waking,  watchful 
eye,  which  keeps  its  fond  vigil  over  her  slumbering 
babe. 


504  BECOMING   A    MOTHER. 

The  mother  is  the  angel-spirit  of  home.  Her 
tender  yearnings  over  the  cradle  of  her  infant  babe, 
her  guardian  care  of  the  child  and  youth,  and  her 
bosom  companionship  with  the  man  of  her  love  and 
choice,  make  her  the  personal  center  of  the  interests, 
the  hopes,  and  happiness  of  the  family.  Her  love 
glows  in  her  sympathies,  and  reigns  in  all  her  thoughts 
and  deeds.  It  never  cools,  never  tires,  never  dreads, 
never  sleeps,  but  ever  glows  and  burns  with  increas- 
ing ardor,  like  sweet  and  holy  incense  upon  the  altar 
of  home  devotion.  And  even  when  she  has  gone  to 
her  last  rest,  the  sainted  mother  in  heaven  sways  a 
mightier  influence  over  her  wayward  husband  or 
child,  than  when  she  was  present.  Her  departed 
spirit  still  hovers  over  his  affections,  overshadows  his 
path,  and  draws  him  by  unseen  cords  to  herself  in 
heaven. 

Every  woman  in  becoming  a  mother  takes  a  higher 
place  in  the  scale  of  being.  A  most  important  work 
is  allotted  her  in  the  economy  of  the  great  human 
family.  No  longer  does  she  live  for  self;  no  longer 
will  she  be  noteless  and  unrecorded,  passing  away 
without  name  or  memorial  among  the  people.  No 
longer  can  it  be  said  of  her,  reproachfully,  that  "she 
lent  her  graces  to  the  grave, 'and  left  the  world  no 
copy. ' 

BECOMING  A  MOTHER. 

A  lady  wrote  to  a  friend  on  becoming  a  mother  : 
"  You  have  gained  an  increase  of  power.  The  influ- 
ence which  is  most  truly  valuable  is  that  of  mind  over 
mind.  How  entire  and  perfect  is  this  dominion  over 
the  unformed  character  of  your  infant !  Write  what 


BECOMING    A    MOTHER.  505 

you  will  upon  that  printless  tablet  with  your  wand  of 
love.  Hitherto,  your  influence  over  your  dearest 
friend,  your  most  submissive  servant,  has  known 
bounds  and  obstructions.  Now,  you  have  over  a 
new-born  immortal  almost  that  degree  of  power 
which  the  mind  exercises  over  the  body,  and  which 
Aristotle  compares  to  the  'sway  of  a  prince  over  a 
bondsman.'  The  period  of  this  influence  must  indeed 
pass  away  ;  but  while  it  lasts,  make  good  use  of  it." 

Mothers  constitute  the  only  universal  agent  of 
civilization,  for  nature  has  placed  in  her  hands  both 
infancy  and  youth.  Secluded,  as  she  wisely  is,  from 
any  share  in  the  administration  of  government,  how 
shall  her  patriotism  find  legitimate  exercise  ?  The 
admixture  of  the  female  mind  in  the  ferment  of 
political  ambition,  would  be  neither  safe,  if  it  were 
permitted,  nor  to  be  desired,  if  it  were  safe.  Nations 
who  have  encouraged  it,  have  usually  found  their 
cabinet  councils  perplexed  by  intrigue,  or  turbulent 
with  contention.  History  has  recorded  instances 
where  the  gentler  sex  have  usurped  the  scepter  of 
the  monarch,  or  invaded  the  province  of  the  warrior. 
But  we  regard  them  either  with  amazement,  as  a 
planet  rushing  from  its  orbit,  or  with  pity,  as  the  lost 
Pleiad  forsaking  its  happy  and  brilliant  sisterhood. 

The  vital  interests  of  this  country  hang  largely  upon 
the  influence  of  mothers.  We  are  exposed  to  the 
influx  of  vast  hosts  of  foreigners,  who  are  either  unfit 
to  enjoy  our  free  institutions,  or  adverse  to  them  in 
spirit.  To  neutralize  this  mass,  to  rule  its  fermenta- 
tions, to  prevent  it  from  becoming  a  lava-stream  in 
the  garden  of  liberty,  is  a  work  of  power  and  peril. 
The  force  of  public  opinion  and  the  terrors  of  the 


MOTHERS   LOVE. 

law  must  hold  in  check  these  elements  of  danger 
until  the  effects  of  education  can  restore  them  to 
order  and  beauty. 

Insubordination  is  becoming  a  prominent  feature 
in  many  of  our  principal  cities.  Obedience  in  fami- 
lies, respect  to  magistrates,  and  love  of  country 
should  therefore  be  inculcated  with  increased  energy 
by  those  who  have  earliest  access  to  the  mind.  A 
barrier  to  the  torrent  of  corruption,  and  a  guard  over 
the  strongholds  of  knowledge  and  of  virtue,  may  be 
placed  by  the  mother  as  she  watches  over  her  cradled 
son.  Let  her  come  forth,  with  vigor  and  vigilance,  at 
the  call  of  her  country^  not  like  Boadicea,  in  her 
chariot,  but  like  the  mother  of  Washington,  feeling 
that  the  first  lesson  to  every  incipient  ruler  should 
be,  how  to  obey.  The  degree  of  diligence  in  preparing 
her  children  to  be  good  subjects  of  a  just  govern- 
ment, will  be  the  true  measure  of  patriotism.  While 
she  labors  to  pour  a  pure  and  heavenly  spirit  into  the 
hearts  that  open  around  her,  she  knows  not  but  she 
may  be  appointed  to  rear  some  future  statesman  for 
her  nation's  helm,  or  priest  for  the  temple  of  God. 

A  MOTHER'S  LOVE. 


A  mother's  love  !  Who  can  fathom  its  depths  ? 
The  wild  storm  of  adversity  and  the  bright  sunshine 
of  prosperity  are  alike  to  her.  However  unworthy 
we  may  be  of  that  affection,  a  mother  never  ceases  to 
love  her  erring  child.  Life  affords  many  affecting 
illustrations  of  this  truth.  Of  mothers  it  can  often 
be  said  :  "  They  love  not  wisely,  but  too  well."  Here 
is  an  example :  A  widow  expended  on  her  only 


A    MOTHERS    LOVE.  507 

son  all  the  fullness  of  her  affection,  and  the  little 
gains  of  her  industry.  She  denied  herself  every  su- 
perfluity that  he  might  receive  the  benefits  of  educa- 
tion, and  the  indulgences  that  boyhood  covets.  She 
sat  silently  by  her  small  fire,  and  lighted  her  single 
candle,  and  regarded  him  with  intense  delight,  as  he 
amused  himself  with  his  books,  or  sought  out  the  les- 
sons for  the  following  day.  The  expenses  of  his 
school  were  discharged  by  the  labor  of  her  hands, 
and  glad  and  proud  was  she  to  bestow  on  him  privi- 
leges in  which  her  own  youth  had  never  been  per- 
mitted to  share.  She  believed  him  to  be  diligently 
acquiring  the  knowledge  which  she  respected,  but 
was  unable  to  comprehend.  His  teachers,  and  his 
idle  companions,  knew  otherwise.  He,  indeed, 
learned  to  astonish  his  simple  and  admiring  parent 
with  high-sounding  epithets  and  technical  terms,  and 
despise  her  for  not  understanding  them.  When  she 
saw  him  discontented  at  comparing  his  situation  with 
that  of  others  who  were  above  him  in  rank,  she 
almost  denied  herself  bread,  that  she  might  add  a 
luxury  to  his  table,  or  a  garment  to  his  wardrobe. 

She  erred  in  judgment,  and  in  conduct,  but  still 
her  changeless  love  surmounted  all.  When,  every 
year,  his  heart  grew  more  cold  and  selfish,  and  he  re- 
turned no  caress,  and  even  assumed  an  air  of  de- 
fiance, she  strove  not  to  perceive  the  alteration,  or 
sadly  solaced  herself  with  the  reflection  that  "  this 
was  the  nature  of  boys." 

He  grew  boisterous  and  disobedient,  and  began  to 
stay  away  from  the  humble  cottage.  She  sat  up  late 
for  him,  and  when  he  came,  welcomed  him  kindly, 
but  often  during  those  long  and  lonely  evenings  she 


508  A  MOTHER'S  LOVE. 

wept  as  she  remembered  his  early  years.  At  length 
it  was  evident  that  darker  vices  were  making  him 
their  victim.  The  habit  of  intemperance  could  no 
longer  be  concealed,  even  from  blinded  love.  The 
widowed  mother  remonstrated  with  unwonted  energy, 
and  was  answered  with  words  of  insolence  and 
brutality. 

He  disappeared  from  her  cottage.  What  she 
dreaded  had  come  upon  her.  In  his  anger  he  had 
gone  to  sea.  And  now,  every  night  when  the  tem- 
pest howled,  and  the  wind  was  high,  she  lay  sleepless, 
thinking  of  him.  She  saw  him  in  her  imagination 
climbing  the  slippery  shrouds,  or  doing  the  bidding 
of  rough,  unfeeling  men.  Again  she  fancied  that  he 
was  sick  and  suffering,  with  none  to  watch  over  him, 
or  have  patience  with  his  waywardness,  and  her  head, 
with  silver  hairs  besprinkled,  bowed  in  grief. 

But  hope  of  his  return  began  to  cheer  her.  When 
the  new  moon  with  its  slender  crescent  looked  in  at 
her  window,  she  said,  "  I  think  my  boy  will  be  here 
ere  that  moon  is  old."  And  when  it  waned  and  went 
away,  she  sighed  and  said,  "  My  boy  will  remember 
me." 

Years  fled,  and  there  was  no  letter,  no  recognition. 
Sometimes  she  gathered  tidings  from  a  comrade  that 
he  was  on  some  far  sea,  or  in  some  foreign  land. 
But  no  message  for  his  mother.  When  he  touched 
at  some  port  in  his  native  country,  it  was  not  to  seek 
her  cottage,  but  to  spend  his  wages  in  revelry,  and 
re-embark  on  a  new  voyage.  Weary  years,  and  no 
letter.  Yet  she  had  abridged  her  comforts  that  he 
might  be  taught  to  write,  and  she  used  to  exhibit  his 
penmanship  with  such  pride.  But  she  dismissed  all 


A    MOTHERS    LOVE.  509 

reproachful  thoughts  with  the  reflection,  "  It  was  the 
nature  of  sailors." 

Amid  all  these  years  of  neglect  and  cruelty,  Love 
lived  on.  When  Hope  refused  nourishment,  she 
asked  food  of  Memory.  She  was  satisfied  with 
crumbs  from  a  table  which  must  never  be  spread  again. 
Memory  brought  the  broken  bread  which  she  had 
gathered  into  her  basket,  when  the  feast  of  innocence 
was  over,  and  love  received  it  as  a  mendicant,  and 
fed  upon  it,  and  gave  thanks.  She  fed  upon  the 
cradle-smile  ;  upon  the  first  caress  of  infancy  ;  upon 
the  loving  years  of  childhood,  when,  putting  his 
cheek  to  hers,  Ke  slumbered  the  livelong  night,  or, 
when  teaching  him  to  walk,  he  tottered  with  out- 
stretched arms  to  her  bosom  as  a  new-fledged  bird  to 
its  nest. 

It  was  a  cold  night  in  winter,  and  the  snow  lay 
deep  upon  the  earth.  The  widow  sat  alone  by  her 
little  fireside.  The  marks  of  early  age  had  settled 
upon  her.  A  heavy  knock  shook  her  door,  and  ere 
she  could  open  it,  a  man  entered.  He  moved  with 
pain  like  one  crippled,  and  his  red  and  downcast 
visage  was  partially  concealed  by  a  torn  hat.  Among 
those  who  had  been  familiar  with  his  youthful  coun- 
tenance, only  one  could  have  recognized  him  through 
his  disguise  and  misery.  The  mother,  looking  deep 
into  his  eye,  saw  a  faint  tinge  of  that  fair  blue  which 
had  charmed  her  when  it  unclosed  from  a  cradle- 
dream,  and  exclaimed  in  tones  of  deepest  joy,  "  My 
son  !  my  son  !  " 

But  had  the  prodigal  returned  as  a  penitent  ?  Alas  ! 
the  revels  that  then  shook  the  roof  of  his  widowed 
parent,  and  the  profanity  that  disturbed  her  repose, 


510  MOTHERS    OF    GREAT    MEN. 

told  a  different  story.  The  remainder  of  his  history 
is  brief.  The  effects  of  vice  had  debilitated  his  con- 
stitution, and  once,  as  he  was  apparently  recovering 
from  a  long  paroxysm  of  intemperance,  apoplexy 
struck  his  heated  brain,  and  he  lay  a  bloated  and  hid- 
eous carcass.  The  poor  mother  soon  faded  away,  and 
followed  him.  She  had  watched  over  him  with  a 
meek,  nursing  patience  to  the  last.  Her  love  had 
never  turned  away  from  him  through  years  of 
neglect,  brutality,  and  revolting  wickedness.  "  Bear- 
ing all  things,  believing  all  things,  hoping  all  things, 
enduring  all  things,"  was  its  divine,  but  misguided 
motto. 

MOTHERS  OF  GREAT  MEN. 

Look  into  the  records  of  history  and  biography, 
and  you  will  find  but  few  exceptions  to  the  rule,  that 
all  great  men  have  great  mothers.  The  father's  in- 
fluence upon  offspring  is  comparatively  feeble  and 
insignificant  to  that  of  the  mother.  Sons  usually  in- 
herit the  mother's  prominent  traits.  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  mother  was  not  only  a  superior  woman,  but  a 
great  lover  of  poetry  and  painting.  Byron's  mother 
was  talented,  but  proud  and  ill-tempered.  The 
mother  of  Napoleon  was  noted  for  her  beauty  and 
energy.  The  mother  of  John  Wesley  was  so  re- 
markable for  intelligence,  piety  and  executive  ability 
that  she  has  been  called  the  "  Mother  of  Methodism." 
The  mother  of  Nero,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  mur- 
deress. St.  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  was  one  of  a 
large  family  of  children,  all  of  whom  were  fed  from 
the  bosom  of  their  mother.  She  entertained  the 
idea  that  the  infant  imbibed  with  its  milk  some  por- 


MOTHERS    OF    GREAT    MEN.  51! 

tion  of  the  quality  and  temperament  of  its  nurse  ; 
hence,  while  her  children  were  young  they  had  no  at- 
tendant but  herself.  And  they  all  became  remarkable 
men  and  women,  though  the  fame  of  St.  Bernard 
has  eclipsed  that  of  all  the  rest.  The  same  is  true 
of  the  first  wife  of  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  and  hun- 
dreds of  others. 

Helena,  the  mother  of  Constantine  the  Great,  was 
an  extraordinary  woman.  Notwithstanding  the  rude- 
ness of  her  own  native  realm  of  Britain,  and  the  low 
state  of  learning  among  her  sex,  she  wrote  several 
works,  among  which  was  a  book  of  Greek  verse ; 
and  the  principles  she  early  infused  into  the  mind  of 
that  Christian  Emperor,  undoubtedly  had  great  in- 
fluence in  determining  his  future  course. 

The  mother  of  the  illustrious  Lord  Bacon  breathed 
into  his  mind  in  the  forming  period  of  childhood, 
her  own  love  of  learning;  and  while  she  instructed 
him  in  the  rudiments  of  science,  she  awakened  that 
spirit  of  liberal  curiosity  and  research,  which  after- 
ward induced  him  to  take  "  all  knowledge  to  be  his 
province."  Her  influence  also  on  the  mind  of  King 
Edward  VI.,  to  whom  in  his  early  years  she  was  gov- 
erness, was  eminently  happy.  He  derived  from  her 
much  of  that  spirit  of  zealous  and  consistent  piety 
which  moved  her,  while  occupied  with  other  studies, 
to  translate  from  the  Italian  twenty-five  sermons  on 
abstruse  and  important  tenets  of  faith. 

Baron  Cuvier,  from  the  extreme  feebleness  of  his 
childhood,  came  almost  constantly  under  the  care  of 
his  mother.  The  sweetness  of  this  intercourse  dwelt 
on  his  memory  throughout  the  whole  of  his  life. 
She  taught  him  to  read  fluently  at  the  age  of  four 


512  MOTHERS    OF    GREAT    MEN. 

years,  trained  him  to  draw,  heard  him  recite  in  Latin, 
read  with  him  the  best  authors,  and  instilled  into  his 
mind  a  reverence  for  both  knowledge  and  religion. 

The  agency  exercised  by  the  mother  of  Washington, 
in  forming  that  character  which  the  world  delighted 
to  honor,  is  a  subject  of  elevating  contemplation. 
His  undeviating  integrity  and  unshaken  self-command 
were  developments  of  her  own  elements  of  character, 
fruits  from  those  germs  which  she  planted  in  the  soil 
of  his  infancy.  She  combined  Spartan  firmness  and 
simplicity  with  the  deep  affections  of  a  Christian 
matron,  and  all  this  concentrated  influence  was 
brought  to  bear  upon  her  son,  who,  by  the  early 
death  of  his  father,  passed  more  entirely  under  her 
discipline.  He  who  has  been  likened  to  Fabius,  Cin- 
cinnatus,  and  other  heroes  of  antiquity,  only  to  show 
how  he  transcended  each  ;  he  who  caused  the  shades 
of  Mount  Vernon  to  be  as  sacred  to  the  patriot  as 
the  shrine  at  Mecca  to  the  pilgrim,  shares  his  glory 
with  her  who  wrought  among  the  rudiments  of  his 
being  with  no  idle  and  uncertain  hand.  The  monu- 
ment which  now  designates  her  last  repose  speaks 
eloquently  to  her  sex,  bidding  them  to  impress  the 
character  of  true  greatness  upon  the  next  generation. 
It  warns  them  to  prepare  by  unslumbering  efforts  for 
their  own  solemn  responsibility.  Let  her  who  is  dis- 
posed to  indulge  in  lassitude,  or  to  forget  that  she 
may  stamp  an  indelible  character  either  for  good  or  evil 
on  the  immortal  mind  submitted  to  her  regency,  go 
and  renounce  her  errors,  deepen  her  faith,  and 
quicken  her  energies  at  the  tomb  of  "  Mary,  the 
mother  of  Washington." 

o 

Another   American    woman    of    noble    name   and 


MOTHERS    OF    GREAT    MEN.  513 

memory,  whose  life  furnishes  a  pattern  of  heroic  in- 
dustry and  patient  power,  is  Mrs.  Martha  Laurens 
Ramsay  of  South  Carolina.  Her  father,  Col.  Henry 
Laurens,  was  conspicuous  as  a  man  of  talent,  and  a 
statesman.  At  the  age  of  eleven,  her  most  excellent 
mother  died,  and  she  was  placed  under  the  care  of  an 
aunt.  Her  father  went  to  Europe,  to  superintend 
the  education  of  his  sons,  and  for  eleven  years  she 
had  no  intercourse  with  him  except  by  the  pen.  At 
the  age  of  sixteen  she  accompanied  her  aunt  to 
England.  The  war  between  England  and  her  native 
country  soon  commencing,  her  father  was  called 
home,  and  appointed  to  an  important  station  in  that 
arduous  struggle. 

While  her  father  filled  the  office  of  President  of 
the  Continental  Congress,  he  wrote  to  his  daughter 
to  prepare  for  reverses,  and,  if  necessary,  to  obtain 
her  subsistence  by  her  own  labor.  Her  father,  sent 
to  England  on  business  for  this  country,  was  thrown 
a  prisoner  into  the  Tower,  on  a  charge  of  high 
treason,  and  was  in  danger  of  his  life.  Charleston 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  Carolina  overrun  by 
their  armies,  and,  as  the  climax  of  her  sorrows,  news 
came  that  her  beloved  brother,  John  Laurens,  had 
fallen  in  battle. 

Ere  long,  however,  hope  began  to  dawn  upon  the 
destinies  of  her  native  land.  Her  father  was  released 
from  prison,  and  intrusted  with  public  negotiations 
to  the  court  of  France.  She  was  summoned  to  join 
him  in  Paris,  and  who  can  tell  the  rapture  with 
which,  for  the  first  time  for  almost  twelve  years,  she 
received  his  paternal  embrace.  The  change  was 
great,  from  the  privations  of  poverty,  the  toil  of  the 

33 


MOTHER    OF    ELEVEN    CHILDREN. 


nurse's  chamber,  and  the  solitude  of  a  remote  country 
village,  to  the  head  of  the  table  of  a  minister- 
plenipotentiary,  in  the  gayest  metropolis  of  the 
gayest  clime  in  Europe,  but  her  eminent  good  sense 
proved  equal  to  the  demand. 

Her  gratitude,  on  her  return  to  her  native  country, 
was  unbounded,  to  find  it,  after  her  ten  years'  exile, 
in  peace  and  freedom,  and  maintaining  a  rank  among 
the  nations  of  the  earth.  Not  long  after  she  became 
the  wife  of  Dr.  David  Ramsay,  a  man  highly  respected 
for  his  eminence  in  science  and  literature,  and  capable 
of  appreciating  the  worth  of  the  companion  whom  he 
had  chosen.  Her  conduct  in  the  station  of  a  wife,  the 
mistress  of  a  household,  and  the  mother  of  children, 
shone  forth  as  an  example  to  all.  She  lightened  the 
burden  of  her  husband's  cares,  and  assisted  him,  as 
far  as  possible,  in  his  literary  and  professional  labors. 
In  times  of  general  sickness,  she  sought  out,  in  vari- 
ous books,  cases  of  peculiar  importance,  and  related 
them  to  him,  or  presented  in  one  view  the  opinions 
of  standard  medical  authors. 

MOTHER  OF  ELEVEN   CHILDREN. 


In  the  first  sixteen  years  after  marriage,  she  became 
the  mother  of  eleven  children.  In  their  care  and 
education  she  was  indefatigable.  In  every  season  of 
sickness  and  pain,  she  was  their  most  watchful,  tender 
nurse.  She  sought  to  procure  for  each  a  good  con- 
stitution and  a  well-regulated  mind.  She  taught 
them  industry,  and  as  they  gained  vigor,  inured  them 
to  fatigue  and  occasional  hardship.  She  required 
them  to  restrain  their  tempers;  to  subject  their  de- 


MOTHER   OF    ELEVEN    CHILDREN.  515 

sires  to  the  control  of  reason  and  religion  ;  to  practice 
self-denial,  and  to  bear  disappointment. 

She  constantly  assisted  their  progress  in  useful 
knowledge,  and  took  the  whole  superintendence  of 
their  education.  For  the  use  of  her  first  children,  she 
compiled  a  grammar  of  the  English  language,  not 
finding  those  of  Lowth  and  Ash,  which  were  then  the 
only  ones  she  could  obtain,  adapted  to  the  compre- 
hension of  unfolding  intellects.  She  prepared  ques- 
tions for  them  in  ancient  and  modern  history,  which 
they  were  expected  to  answer  from  their  general 
knowledge,  and  in  their  own  language.  From  her 
accurate  acquaintance  with  French,  she  excelled  in  it 
as  a  teacher,  and  for  their  sakes  she  studied  the 
Greek  and  Latin  classics,  so  as  to  become  a  profitable 
instructor  in  those  languages. 

With  the  same  ardor  to  advance  the  education  of 
her  children,  she  studied  botany,  and  refreshed  her 
knowledge  of  natural  and  civil  history,  biography,  as- 
tronomy, philosophy,  and  an  extensive  course  of 
voyages  and  travels.  She  gave  her  instructions  with 
regularity,  and  thus  conducted  her  daughters  at  home 
through  the  studies  and  accomplishments  taught  at 
boarding-schools,  and  her  sons  through  a  course  of 
training  which  fitted  them  to  enter  college.  A  por- 
tion of  each  day  was  devoted  to  reading,  and  another 
to  the  practice  of  needlework,  in  which  useful  art  she 
rendered  her  daughters  expert,  insisting,  even  amidst 
the  heat  of  a  Carolina  summer,  on  their  systematic 
industry. 

For  her  astonishing  amount  of  industrious  perform- 
ance, and  her  uniform  excellence  in  every  relative 
duty,  she  derived  strength  from  her  spirit  of  piety. 


516  STRIKING    CONTRAST. 

She  lived  a  life  of  prayer.  In  every  important  trans- 
action, in  the  midst  of  her  daily  cares,  she  poured  her 
anxieties  into  the  ear  of  her  heavenly  Father,  solicited 
His  direction,  and  brought  the  tribute  of  her  grateful 
praise.  It  is  to  the  influence  of  such  mothers  as  these 
that  America  owes  its  existence  and  its  independence. 
As  some  one  has  sung : 

*'  The  mothers  of  our  Pilgrim  Land 

Their  bosoms  pillowed  men  ! 
And  proud  were  they  by  such  to  stand 

In  hammock,  fort,  or  glen. 
They  shrank  not  from  the  foeman, 

They  quailed  not  in  the  fight, 
But  cheered  their  husbands  through  the  day, 

Or  nursed  them  through  the  night. 
No  braver  dames  had  Sparta, 

No  nobler  matrons,  Rome !" 

STRIKING  CONTRAST. 

In  striking  contrast  with  the  example  of  Mrs. 
Ramsay,  is  the  conduct  of  many  women  of  our  own 
time.  The  number  of  wives  and  young  women  in 
our  day  is  not  small,  who  look  upon  the  duties,  cares, 
pleasures,  and  responsibilities  of  motherhood  as  irk- 
some, disagreeable,  confining,  not  to  say  a  little 
degrading  in  some  particulars.  Accordingly,  these 
duties  and  pleasures  are  shunned,  and  even  pre- 
vented to  an  extent  that  bodes  no  good  to 
the  perpetuity  and  welfare  of  our  nation.  There 
is  an  evil  here  of  alarming  magnitude.  One 
or  two  children  now  constitute  the  average  family, 
and  the  birth  of  even  this  number  is  prevented 
whenever  it  can  be  without  greater  injury  to  health. 


STRIKING   CONTRAST.  517 

The  crown  and  glory  of  womankind,  that  diadem  of 
motherly  honor  and  dignity  which  has  rested  upon 
the  sex  since  the  first  woman  exclaimed,  in  joyful  tri- 
umph, "  I  have  gotten  a  child  from  the  Lord,"  is  now 
being  torn  in  pieces  by  the  hand  of  woman  herself, 
and  trampled  in  disdain  under  her  feet.  Shame  on 
her! 

That  woman  who  deliberately  and  wilfully  refuses 
to  wear  this  glorious  and  holy  crown  of  motherhood  ; 
who  had  rather  idle  away  her  time  and  strength  in 
following  the  devious  and  senseless  ways  of  fashion  ; 
in  parading  the  streets,  and  lounging  in  shops  and 
stores  ;  in  dressing  beyond  the  bounds  of  economy  or 
prudence ;  in  gratifying  vain,  frivolous,  sensuous 
wishes  and  desires,  than  in  bringing  up  children  to 
do  good,  and  thus  throwing  back  credit  upon  their 
parents,  is  unworthy  of  the  name  of  woman,  is  untrue 
to  the  highest  and  holiest  impulses  of  her  own  nature, 
is  false  to  the  design  and  intent  of  God  in  her  creation. 
We  are  aware  of  the  fact  that  women  must  not  be 
made  to  bear  all  the  blame  in  this  matter ;  yet,  as  far 
as  they  can,  it  is  their  duty  and  privilege  alike  to 
shrink  not  from  the  mingled  pain  and  rapture  by 
which  noble  sons  and  daughters  are  reared  to  fill  the 
places  made  empty  by  death.  A  childless  woman  is 
always  an  object  of  pity  ;  but  when  she  makes  herself 
childless,  through  downright  laziness  and  hatred  of 
care,  she  becomes  an  object  of  scorn. 

One  of  the  most  touching  and  beautiful  poems  that 
ever  came  from  the  heart  and  pen  of  Cowper,  was 
evoked  by  the  gift  to  him  of  his  mother's  picture. 
Let  my  female  readers  peruse  it  carefully,  and  then 
ask  if  any  woman  could  wish  for  a  nobler  apotheosis. 


5l8  STRIKING   CONTRAST. 

The   poet    is   supposed   to   be   holding   the   picture 
before  him,  and  to  be  talking  to  it  thus  : 

"  O  that  those  lips  had  language!     Life  has  passed 
With  me  but  roughly  since  I  heard  thee  last. 
Those  lips  are  thine, — thy  own  sweet  smile  I  see, 
The  same  that  oft  in  childhood  solaced  me; 
Voice  only  fails,  else  how  distinct  they  say, 
*  Grieve  not,  my  child,  chase  all  thy  fears  away! ' 

«  My  mother!  when  I  learned  that  thou  wast  dead, 
Say,  wast  thou  conscious  of  the  tears  I  shed? 
Hovered  thy  spirit  o'er  thy  sorrowing  son, 
Wretched  e'en  then,  life's  journey  just  begun  ? 
Perhaps  thou  gavest  me,  though  unfelt,  a  kiss, 
Perhaps  a  tear,  if  souls  can  weep  in  bliss — 
Ah,  that  maternal  smile!  it  answers — Yes. 
I  heard  the  bell  tolled  on  thy  burial  day, 
I  saw  the  hearse  that  bore  thee  slow  away, 
And,  turning  from  my  nursery  window,  drew 
A  long,  long  sigh,  and  wept  a  last  adieu! 
But  was  it  such?     It  was. — Where  thou  art  gone, 
Adieus  and  farewells  are  a  sound  unknown. 
May  I  but  meet  thee  on  that  peaceful  shore, 
The  parting  word  shall  pass  my  lips  no  more! 

"  Thy  maidens  grieved  themselves  at  my  concern, 
Oft  gave  me  promise  of  thy  quick  return. 
What  ardently  I  wished,  I  long  believed, 
And  disappointed  still,  was  still  deceived. 
My  expectation  every  day  beguiled, 
Dupe  of  to-morrow,  even  from  a  child. 
Thus  many  a  sad  to-morrow  came  and  went, 
Till  all  my  stock  of  infant  sorrow  spent, 
I  learned  at  last  submission  to  my  lot, 
But,  though  I  less  deplored  thee,  ne'er  forgot. 

"  Where  once  we  dwelt  our  name  is  heard  no  more, 
Children  not  thine  have  trod  my  nursery  floor; 


STRIKING   CONTRAST.  519 

And  where  the  gardener  Robin,  day  by  day, 
Drew  me  to  school  along  the  public  way, 
Delighted  with  my  bauble  coach,  and  wrapped 
In  scarlet  mantle  warm,  and  velvet  cap, 
1  Tis  now  become  a  history  little  known, 
That  once  we  called  the  pastoral  house  our  own. 
Short-lived  possession!  but  the  record  fair 
That  memory  keeps  of  all  thy  kindness  there, 
Still  outlives  many  a  storm,  that  has  effaced 
A  thousand  other  themes  less  deeply  traced. 

**  Thy  nightly  visits  to  my  chamber  made, 
'That  thou  might' st  know  me  safe,  and  warmly  laid; 
Thy  morning  bounties  ere  I  left  my  home, 
The  biscuit,  or  confectionary  plum; 
The  fragrant  waters  on  my  cheek  bestowed 
By  thy  own  hand,  till  fresh  they  shone  and  glowed, 
All  this,  and  more  endearing  still  than  all, 
Thy  constant  flow  of  love,  that  knew  no  fall, 
Ne'er  roughened  by  those  cataracts  and  breaks 
That  humor  interposed  too  often  makes, 
All  this  still  legible  in  memory's  page, 
And  still  to  be  so  to  my  latest  age. 

"  Could  Time,  his  flight  reversed,  restore  the  hours, 
When,  playing  with  thy  vesture's  tissued  flowers, 
The  violet,  the  pink,  and  jessamine, 
I  pricked  them  into  paper  with  a  pin, 
(And  thou  wast  happier  than  myself  the  while, 
Wouldst  softly  speak,  and  stroke  my  head  and  smile) 
Could  these  few  pleasant  days  again  appear, 
Might  one  wish  bring  them,  would  I  wish  them  here? 
I  would  not  trust  my  heart — the  dear  delight 
Seems  so  to  be  desired,  perhaps  I  might — 
But  no, — what  here  we  call  our  life  is  such, 
So  little  to  be  loved,  and  thou  so  much, 
That  1  should  ill  requite  thee  to  constrain 
Thy  unbound  spirit  into  bonds  again. 


52O  STRIKING   CONTRAST. 


"  Thou  as  a  gallant  bark  from  Albion's  coast 
(The  storms  all  weathered,  and  the  ocean  crossed) 
Shoots  into  port  at  some  well-havened  isle, 
Where  spices  breathe,  and  brighter  seasons  smile, 
Then  sits  quiescent  on  the  floods,  that  show 
Her  beauteous  form  reflected  clear  below, 
While  airs  impregnated  with  incense  play 
Around  her,  fanning  light  her  streamers  gay; 
So  thou,  with  sails  how  swift!  hast  reached  the  shore 
Where  tempests  never  beat,  nor  billows  roar, 
While  thy  loved  consort  on  the  dangerous  tide 
Of  life  long  since  has  anchored  by  thy  side. 

"  But  me,  scarce  hoping  to  attain  that  rest, 
Always  from  port  withheld,  always  distressed — 
Me  howling  blasts  drive  devious,  tempest-tossed, 
Sails  ripped,  seams  opening  wide,  and  compass  lost, 
And  day  by  day,  some  current's  thwarting  force 
Sets  me  more  distant  from  a  prosperous  course. 
Yet  O  the  thought  that  thou  art  safe,  and  he, 
That  thought  is  joy,  arrive  what  may  to  me. 
My  boast  is  not,  that  I  deduce  my  birth 
From  lions  enthroned,  and  rulers  of  the  earthy 
But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise— 
The  son  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies. 

"  And  now,  farewell — Time  unrevoked  has  run 
His  wonted  course,  yet  what  I  wished  is  done. 
By  Contemplation's  help  not  sought  in  vain, 
I  seem  to  have  lived  my  childhood  o'er  again; 
To  have  renewed  the  joys  that  once  were  mine, 
Without  the  sin  of  violating  thine; 
And  while  the  wings  of  fancy  still  are  free, 
And  I  can  view  this  mimic  show  of  thee, 
Time  has  but  half  succeeded  in  his  theft — 
Thyself  removed,  thy  power  to  soothe  me  left." 


MY    BIRTHDAY.  521 

Equally  tender  and  loving  is  the  tribute  which   N. 
P.  Willis  pays  his  mother  in  the  following  verses : 

MT  BIRTH  DAT. 

"My  birthday! — Oh,  beloved  mother! 

My  heart  is  with  thee  o'er  the  seas. 
I  did  not  think  to  count  another 

Before  I  went  upon  thy  knees — 
Before  this  scroll  of  absent  years 

Was  blotted  with  thy  streaming  tears. 

"  My  own  I  do  not  care  to  check. 

I  weep, — albeit  here  alone, — 
As  if  I  hung  upon  thy  neck, 

As  if  thy  lips  were  on  my  own. 
As  if  this  full,  sad  heart  of  mine, 

Were  beating  closely  upon  thine. 

"  Four  weary  years!  How  looks  she  now, 
What  light  is  in  those  tender  eyes! 

What  trace  of  time  has  touch'd  the  brow 
Whose  look  is  borrow'd  of  the  skies 

That  listen  to  her  nightly  prayer? 

"  Oh !  when  the  hour  to  meet  again 

Creeps  on — and,  speeding  o'er  the  sea, 
My  heart  takes  up  its  lengthen'd  chain, 

And,  link  by  link,  draws  nearer  thee — 
When  land  is  hail'd,  and,  from  the  shore 

Comes  off  the  blessed  breath  of  home, 
With  fragrance  from  my  mother's  door 

Of  flowers  forgotten  when  I  come — 
When  port  is  gain'd,  and  slowly  now 

The  old  familiar  paths  are  pass'd, 
And  entering — unconscious  how — 

I  gaze  upon  thy  face  at  last, 
And  run  to  thee  all  faint  and  weak, 


522  MY    BIRTHDAY. 

"  And  feel  thy  tears  upon  my  cheek — 

Oh!  if  my  heart  break  not  with  joy, 
The  light  of  heaven  will  fairer  seem, 

And  I  shall  grow  once  more  a  boy ; 
And,  mother!  'twill  be  like  a  dream 

That  we  were  parted  thus  for  years; 
And  once  that  we  have  dried  our  tears, 

How  will  the  days  seem  long  and  bright 
To  meet  thee  always  with  the  morn, 

And  hear  thy  blessing  every  night — 
Thy  « dearest,'  thy  l  first  born !  '— 

And  be  no  more,  as  now,  in  a  strange  land, forlorn  ? 


THE    FAMILY.  523 


THE  FAMILY. 


"At  length  his  humble  cot  appears  in  view, 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  aged  tree; 
Th'  expectant  wee-things,  toddlin',  stacher  through, 

To  meet  their  dad,  wi'  flichterin'  noise  and  glee. 
His  wee  bit  ingle,  blinkin'  bonnily, 

His  clean  hearthstane,  his  thrifty  wifie's  smile, 
The  lisping  infant  prattling  on  his  knee, 

Does  a'  his  weary,  carking  cares  beguile, 

An'  makes  him  quite  forget  his  labor  an'  his  toil." 

— BURNS. 


JHE  family  is  the  oldest  and  most  valuable 
institution  on  earth.  In  the  Garden  of 
Eden  it  had  its  origin,  and  its  founder  was 
no  less  a  being  than  God  Himself,  the 
Author  of  life,  and  the  Creator  of  the 
world.  In  the  beginning  God  made  the  first  pair 
male  and  female,  put  them  together  in  a  common 
home,  and  commanded  them  to  be  fruitful  and  multi- 
ply. And  so  the  world  was  gradually  filled  by  the 
increase  of  children  and  the  multiplication  of  families 
and  homes.  There  is  not  a  single  institution  of 
earth,  whether  sacred  or  secular,  but  has  had  its  rise 
in  the  family.  The  Church  is  simply  a  large  Christian 
family.  The  State  is  nothing  more  than  an  aggrega- 
tion of  families.  Family  government  is  the  original 
model  of  State  authority,  discipline,  and  punishment. 


524  THE    FAMILY. 

The    father   of   a   family   was    the    first   priest    and 
preacher. 

There  can  be  no  permanent  state  of  human  happi- 
ness outside  of  the  family  relation.  The  Nomads,  or 
wandering  tribes  of  the  desert,  although  shut  out 
from  much  of  civilized  enjoyment  by  their  want  of  a 
steady,  fixed  habitation,  still  have  separate  families, 
and  find  about  all  their  comfort  and  peace  inside  of 
their  temporary  home-circles.  The  disposition  to 
congregate  in  groups  or  families  is  manifested  even 
among  the  lower  order  of  creatures,  although,  by  the 
absence  of  all  moral  feeling  and  civil  regulations, 
there  is  no  exclusiveness  of  affection  recognized 
among  them.  Whoever  or  whatever  seeks  to  break 
down  or  weaken  the  force  of  the  family  relation, 
strikes  a  death-blow  at  the  existence  of  personal 
virtue,  and  opens  the  flood-gates  of  evil  to  the  world. 

Every  one  must  have  remarked  that  almost  the 
strongest  motives  to  well-doing,  to  honesty,  sobriety, 
diligence,  and  good  conduct  in  general,  arise,  with  the 
bulk  of  the  people,  from  considerations  connected 
with  their  families.  They  exert  themselves,  they 
deny  themselves,  they  are  impelled  to  form  habits 
which  are  of  the  greatest  value  and  importance,  both 
to  themselves  and  to  society,  by  the  strong  desire 
that  their  children  may  not  want  anything  that  is 
needful  for  their  bodies  or  their  minds,  for  their 
present  comfort,  or  their  future  welfare.  Nations  ex- 
pire, human  governments  are  constantly  re-cast  ; 
political  systems  are  built  up  by  one  generation,  to 
be  pulled  down  by  another ;  false  religions,  accompa- 
nied by  the  licentious  vehemence  of  human  passions, 
effect  the  greatest  social  changes  ;  peace  and  war,  in- 


THE    BABY.  525 

fidelity  and  revolution,  shape  and  re-shape  human 
destiny ;  but  amid  the  decay  and  the  wreck,  the  con- 
fusion and  the  crimes,  which  constantly  disfigure  the 
face  of  the  earth,  the  family  circle,  like  the  ark  of 
Noah,  survives  amid  the  wasting  waters  of  ruin. 

THE  BABT. 

The  family  begins  properly  with  the  baby.  Men 
and  women  may  love,  court,  marry,  and  live  together, 
but  there  is  no  family  until  the  husband  and  wife  can 
say  to  each  other :  "  Two  times  one  are  two,  and  one 
to  carry,  makes  three,"  etc.  As  some  one  has  beauti- 
fully and  truthfully  said :  "  Woe  to  him  who  smiles 
not  over  a  cradle.  He  who  has  never  tried  the 
companionship  of  a  little  child,  has  carelessly  passed 
by  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  life,  as  one  passes 
a  rare  flower  without  plucking  it,  or  knowing  its  value. 
The  gleeful  laugh  of  happy  children  is  the  best 
music,  and  the  graceful  figures  of  childhood  are  the 
best  statuary.  We  are  all  kings  and  queens  in  the 
cradle,  and  each  babe  is  a  new  marvel,  a  new  miracle. 
The  size  of  the  nestler  is  comic,  and  its  tiny,  beseech- 
ing weakness  is  compensated  perfectly  by  the  one 
happy,  patronizing  look  of  the  mother,  who  is  a  sort 
of  high-reposing  Providence  to  it.  Welcome  to  pa- 
rents is  the  puny  struggler,  strong  in  his  weakness, 
his  little  arms  more  irresistible  than  the  soldier's,  his 
lips  touched  with  persuasion  which  Chatham  and 
Pericles  in  manhood  had  not.  His  unaffected  lamenta- 
tions when  he  lifts  up  his  voice  on  high,  or,  more 
beautiful,  the  sobbing  child — the  face  all  liquid  grief, 
as  he  tries  to  swallow  his  vexation — soften  all  hearts 


[E   CRADLE. 

to  pity,  and  to  mirthful  and  clamorous  compassion. 
The  small  despot  asks  so  little,  that  all  reason  and  all 
nature  are  on  his  side.  His  ignorance  is  more  charm- 
ing than  any  knowledge,  and  his  little  sins  more 
bewitching  than  any  virtue.  All  day,  between  his 
three  or  four  sleeps,  he  coos  like  a  pigeon-house,  sput- 
ters and  spurs,  puts  on  faces  of  wonderful  importance, 
and  when  he  fasts,  like  a  little  Pharisee,  he  fails  not 
to  sound  his  trumpet  before  him." 

THE  CRADLE. 


Another  fine  writer  remarks  :  "  How  much  tender- 
ness, how  much  generosity,  springs  into  the  father's 
heart  from  the  cradle  of  his  child.  What  is  there  so 
affecting  to  the  noble  and  virtuous  man,  as  that  being 
which  perpetually  needs  his  help,  and  yet  cannot  call 
for  it.  Inarticulate  sounds,  or  sounds  which  he  re- 
ceives half-formed,  he  bows  himself  down  to  modulate  ; 
he  lays  them  with  infinite  care  and  patience,  not  only 
on  the  tender,  attentive  ear,  but  on  the  half-open 
lips,  on  the  cheeks,  as  if  they  all  were  listeners." 

J.  G.  Holland,  in  his  inimitable  "  Cradle  Song," 
says : 

"What  is  the  little  one  thinking  about? 
Very  wonderful  things,  no  doubt; 
Unwritten  history ! 
Unfathomed  mystery! 

Yet  he  chuckles,  and  crows,  and  nods,  and  winks, 
As  if  his  head  were  as  full  of  kinks 
And  curious  riddles  as  any  sphinx! 

"  Who  can  tell  what  a  baby  thinks? 
Who  can  follow  the  gossamer  links 


THE    CRADLE.  527 

By  which  the  manikin  feels  his  way 
Out  from  the  shore  of  the  great  unknown, 
Blind,  and  wailing,  and  alone, 

Into  the  light  of  day  ? 
Out  from  the  shore  of  the  unknown  sea, 
Tossing  in  pitiful  agony; 
Of  the  unknown  sea  that  reels  and  rolls, 
Specked  with  the  barks  of  little  souls — 
Barks  that  were  launched  on  the  other  side, 
And  slipped  from  heaven  on  an  ebbing  tide! 

M  What  does  he  think  of  his  mother's  eyes? 

What  does  he  think  of  his  mother's  hair? 
What  of  the  cradle-roof  that  flies 

Forward  and  backward  through  the  air? 
What  does  he  think  of  his  mother's  breast, 

Bare  and  beautiful,' smooth  and  white, 

Seeking  it  ever  with  fresh  delight, 
Cup  of  his  life,  and  couch  of  his  rest? 
What  does  he  think  when  her  quick  embrace 
Presses  his  hand,  and  buries  his  face 
Deep  where  the  heart-throbs  sink  and  swell, 
With  a  tenderness  she  never  can  tell, 

Though  she  murmur  the  words 

Of  all  the  birds- 
Words  she  has  learned  to  murmur  well? 

"  Now  he  thinks  he'll  go  to  sleep! 
I  can  see  the  shadow  creep 
Over  his  eyes  in  soft  eclipse, 
Over  his  brow  and  over  his  lips, 
Out  to  his  little  finger-tips! 
Softly  sinking,  down  he  goes! 
Down  he  goes!     Down  he  goes! 
See!     He's  rrished  in  sweet  repose!" 

Now,  young  mother,  what  do    you  hold  in    your 
arms  ?     A  machine  of  exquisite  symmetry ;    the  blue 


528 


THE    CRADLE. 


veins  revealing  the  mysterious  life-tide  through  an  al- 
most transparent  surface ;  the  waking  thought  speak- 
ing through  the  sparkling  eye,  or  dissolving  there  in 
tears ;  such  a  form  as  the  art  of  man  has  never 
equaled  ;  and  such  a  union  of  mind  and  matter  as 
the  highest  reason  fails  to  comprehend.  You  em- 
brace a  being  whose  developments  may  yet  astonish 
you  ;  who  may  perhaps  sway  the  destiny  of  others ; 
whose  gathering  of  knowledge  you  can  neither  fore- 
see nor  limit ;  and  whose  checkered  lot  of  sorrow 
or  joy  are  known  only  to  the  Being  who  fashioned 
him. 

Much  has  been  written  and  spoken  about  the  in- 
fluence of  parents  upon  children,  but  who  shall  write 
of  the  educating  influences  which  children  exert  upon 
parents  ?  The  mother's  first  ministration  for  her  in- 
fant is  to  enter,  as  it  were,  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  and  win  its  life  at  the  peril  of  her  own. 
How  different  must  an  affection  thus  founded,  be 
from  all  others  !  As  if  to  deepen  its  power,  a  season 
of  languor  ensues,  when  she  is  comparatively  alone 
with  her  infant,  and  with  Him  who  gave  it,  cultivat- 
ing an  acquaintance  with  a  new  being,  and  through  a 
new  channel,  with  the  greatest  of  all  beings.  Is  she 
not  also  herself  an  image  of  His  goodness,  while  she 
cherishes  in  her  bosom  the  young  life  that  he  laid 
there  ?  A  love  whose  root  is  in  death,  whose  fruit  must 
be  in  eternity,  has  taken  possession  of  her.  No  wonder 
that  its  effects  are  obvious  and  great.  Has  she  been 
selfish  ?  or  rather,  has  the  disposition  to  become  so, 
been  nourished  by  the  indulgence  of  affluence,  or  the 
adulation  offered  to  beauty  ?  How  soon  she  sacrifices 
her  own  ease  and  convenience  to  that  of  her  babe- 


THE    CRADLE.  529 

She  wakens  at  its  slightest  cry,  and  in  its   sickness 
forgets  to  take  sleep. 

"  Night  after  night 

She  keepeth  vigil,  and  when  tardy  morn 
Breaks  on  her  watching  eyelids,  and  she  fain 
Would  lay  her  down  to  rest,  its  weak  complaining 
O'ercomes  her  weariness." 

Has  she  been  indolent  or  vain  ?  The  physical  care 
of  her  child  helps  to  correct  these  faults.  She 
patiently  plies  the  needle  to  adorn  its  person.  She  is 
pleased  to  hear  the  praises  that  were  once  lavished 
on  herself,  transferred  to  her  new  darling.  Has  she 
been  too  much  devoted  to  fashionable  amusements  ? 
She  learns  to  prize  home-felt  pleasures.  She  prefers 
her  nursery  to  the  lighted  saloons  and  the  brilliant 
throng.  Has  she  been  passionate  ?  How  can  she 
require  the  government  of  temper  from  her  child, 
and  yet  set  him  no  example  ?  When  her  temper  has 
been  discomposed,  she  dreads  the  gaze  of  that  little, 
pure,  wondering  eye,  perhaps  even  more  than  the  re- 
proof o(  conscience.  In  a  word,  she  has  entered  tht, 
temple  of  a  purer  happiness,  and  become  a  disciple 
in  a  higher  school. 

Says  Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigourney,  "  I  have  seen  a  young 
and  beautiful  mother,  herself  like  a  brilliant  and 
graceful  flower,  from  whom  nothing  could  divide  her 
infant.  It  was  to  her  as  a  twin-soul.  She  had  loved 
society,  for  there  she  had  been  as  an  idol.  But  what 
was  the  fleeting  delight  of  adulation  to  the  deep  love 
that  took  possession  of  her  whole  being  ?  She  had 
loved  her  father's  house.  There  she  was  ever  like  a 
song-bird,  the  first  to  welcome  the  day,  and  the  last 

34 


530 


THE    CRADLE. 


to  bless  it.  Now,  she  wreathed  the  same  blossoms 
of  the  heart  around  another  home,  and  lulled  her 
little  nursling  with  the  same  inborn  melodies. 

"  It  was  sick.  She  hung  over  it.  She  watched  it. 
She  comforted  it.  She  sat  whole  nights  with  it  in 
her  arms.  It  was  to  her  like  the  beloved  of  the 
King  of  Israel,  'feeding  among  the  lilies.'  Under 
the  pressure  of  this  care,  there  was  in  her  eye  a 
deep  and  holy  beauty  which  never  gleamed  there 
when  she  was  radiant  in  the  dance,  or  in  the  halls  of 
fashion  the  cynosure.  She  had  been  taught  to  love 
God  and  his  worship  from  her  youth  up  ;  but  when 
health  again  glowed  in  the  face  of  her  babe,  there 
came  from  her  lip  such  a  prayer  of  flowing  praise  as 
it  had  never  before  breathed. 

"  And  when  in  her  beautiful  infant  there  were  the 
first  developments  of  character,  and  of  those  prefer- 
ences and  aversions  which  leave  room  to  doubt 
whether  they  are  from  simplicity  or  perverseness,  and 
whether  they  should  be  repressed  or  pitied,  there 
burst  from  her  soul  a  supplication  more  earnest, 
more  self-abandoning,  more  prevailing,  than  she  had 
ever  before  poured  into  the  ear  of  the  majesty  of 
heaven.  So  the  feeble  hand  of  the  babe  that  she 
nourished,  led  her  through  more  profound  depths  of 
humility,  to  higher  aspirations  of  faith." 

We  have  already  given  a  delightfully-tender  and 
pretty  picture  of  baby  going  to  sleep  ;  now  let  us 
look  at  the  companion  picture  of  baby  awake,  by 
Wm.  C.  Bennett : 


Cheeks  as  soft  as  July  peaches, 
Lips  whose  dewy  scarlet  teaches 


THE   CRADLE.  531 

Poppies'  paleness ;  round,  large  eyes 
Ever  greet  with  new  surprise ; 
Minutes  filled  with  shadeless  gladness, 
Minutes  just  as  brimmed  with  sadness; 
Happy  smiles  and  wailing  cries, 
Crows  and  laughs,  and  tearful  eyes; 
Lights  and  shadows,  swifter  born 
Than  on  wind-swept  Autumn  corn. 

•  Ever  some  new  tiny  notion, 
Making  every  limb  all  motion; 
Catchings  up  of  legs  and  arms, 
Throwings  back  and  small  alarms, 
Clutching  fingers,  straightening  jerks, 
Twining  feet  whose  each  toe  works, 
Kickings  up  and  straining  risings, 
Mother's  ever  new  surprisings ; 
Hands  all  wants,  and  looks  all  wonder, 
At  all  things  the  heavens  under. 

"  Tiny  scorns  of  smiled  reprovings 
That  have  more  of  love  than  lovings, 
Mischiefs  done  with  such  a  winning 
Archness,  that  we  prize  such  sinning; 
Breakings  dire  of  plates  and  glasses, 
Graspings  small  at  all  that  passes, 
Pullings  off  of  all  that's  able 
To  be  caught  from  tray  or  table. 

"  Silences — small  meditations, 
Deep  as  thought  of  cares  for  nations, 
Breaking  into  wisest  speeches 
In  a  tongue  that  nothing  teaches, 
All  the  thoughts  of  whose  possessing 
Must  be  wooed  to  light  by  guessing. 

"Pleasure  high  above  all  pleasure; 
Gladness  brimming  over  gladness, 
Joy  in  care,  delight  in  sadness; 


532 


CARE    OF    INFANTS. 

Loveliness  beyond  completeness, 
Sweetness  distancing  all  sweetness, 
Beauty  all  that  beauty  may  be; 
That's  Baby  May — that's  my  baby." 

CARE  OF  INFANTS. 


Although  it  comes  not  within  our  province  to 
dwell  at  any  length  upon  the  care  of  infants,  yet  we 
cannot  forbear  offering  a  few  suggestions  taken  from 
the  experience  and  life  of  one  of  the  most  intelligent 
and  truest  mothers  this  country  has  ever  produced. 
She  says  :  "  The  duty  of  a  mother  to  her  babe  be- 
gins indeed  before  its  birth.  Every  irritable  feeling 
should  then  be  restrained,  and  overflowing  joy  and 
hope  be  the  daily  aliment  of  life.  Exercise  among 
the  beautiful  works  of  nature,  the  infusion  of  fresh 
social  feeling,  and  the  contemplation  of  the  most 
cheerful  subjects,  should  be  cherished  and  practised 
by  those  who  have  the  glorious  hope  of  introducing 
into  this  world  a  being  never  to  die  ;  who,  already  a 
part  of  themselves,  adds  warmth  and  frequency  to 
their  prayers,  and  whom,  '  having  not  seen,  they 
love  !  ' 

"  The  first  months  of  infancy  should  be  a  season 
of  quietness.  The  unfolding  organs  require  the 
nursing  of  silence  and  of  love.  The  delicate  system, 
like  the  mimosa,  shrinks  from  every  rude  touch. 
Violent  motions  are  uncongenial  to  the  new-born. 
Loud,  sharp  sounds,  and  even  glaring  colors,  should 
be  excluded  from  the  nursery.  The  visual  and  audi- 
tory nerves,  those  princely  ambassadors  to  the  mind, 
are  still  in  embryo. 


CARE    OF    INFANTS.  533 

"  The  first  months  of  infancy  are  a  spot  of  brightness 
to  a  faithful  and  affectionate  mother  ;  a  dream  of  bliss, 
from  which  she  wakes  to  more  complicated  duties ;  a 
payment  for  past  suffering,  a  preparation  for  future 
toil.  I  heard  a  lady,  who  had  brought  up  a  large  family, 
say  it  was  the  '  only  period  of  a  mother's  perfect  en- 
joyment.' At  its  expiration  comes  dentition,  with  a 
host  of  physical  ills.  The  character  begins  to  de- 
velop ;  and  sometimes  to  take  on  the  tinge  which 
occasional  pain  of  body  or  fretfulness  of  temper  im- 
parts. The  little  being  takes  hold  upon  this  life  of 
trial.  Soon,  its  ignorance  must  be  dispelled,  its  per- 
ceptions guided,  its  waywardness  quelled,  and  its  pas- 
sions held  in  check.  Yet,  were  I  to  define  the  climax 
of  happiness  which  a  mother  enjoys  with  her  infant, 
I  should  by  no  means  limit  it  to  the  first  three 
months.  The  whole  season  while  it  is  deriving 
nutriment  from  her,  is  one  of  peculiar,  inexpressible 
felicity.  She  has  it  in  her  power  so  immediately  to 
hush  its  moanings,  to  soothe  its  sorrows,  to  alleviate 
its  sickness,  that  she  is  to  it  as  a  tutelary  spirit. 

"  Mothers,  be  not  anxious  to  abridge  this  halcyon 
period.  Do  not  willingly  deprive  yourselves  of  any 
portion  of  the  highest  pleasure  of  which  woman's 
nature  is  capable.  Devote  yourselves  to  the  work. 
Have  nothing  to  do  with  the  fashionable  evening 
party,  the  crowded  hall,  the  changes  of  dress  that 
put  health  in  jeopardy.  Be  temperate  in  all  things. 
Receive  no  substance  into  the  stomach  that  disorders 
it;  no  stimulant  that  affects  the  head;  indulge  no 
agitating  passions.  They  change  the  aliment  of  the 
little  child.  They  introduce  poison  into  the  veins, 
or  kindle  fever  in  its  blood. 


534 


CARE    OF    INFANTS. 


"  During  the  first  sacred  year,  trust  not  your  treas- 
ure too  much  to  the  charge  of  hirelings.  Have  it  un- 
der your  superintendence,  both  night  and  day.  When 
necessarily  engaged  in  other  employments,  let  it  hear 
your  cheering,  protecting  tone.  Keep  it  ever  within 
the  sensible  atmosphere  of  maternal  tenderness.  Its 
little  heart  will  soon  reach  out  the  slender  radicles  of 
love  and  trust.  Nourish  them  with  smiles  and 
caresses,  the  'small  dew  upon  the  tender  grass.' 
When  it  learns  to  distinguish  you  by  stretching  its 
arms  for  your  embrace ;  when,  on  its  little  tottering 
feet,  it  essays  to  run  toward  you  ;  above  all,  when 
the  first  effort  of  its  untaught  tongue  is  to  form  your 
name,  Mother,  there  is  neither  speech  nor  language 
by  which  to  express  your  joy  !  No,  no,  the  poverty 
of  words  will  never  be  so  unwise  as  to  attempt  it." 


CHILDREN. 


535 


CHILDREN. 


«  Children  are  what  the  mothers  are, 
No  fondest  father's  proudest  care 
Can  fashion  so  the  infant  heart 
As  those  creative  beams  that  dart, 
With  all  their  hopes  and  fears,  upon 
The  cradle  of  a  sleeping  son." 

— ROBERT  SAVAGE  LANDOR. 


O  love  children  is  the  dictate  of  a  nature 
pure  and  healthful.  When  not  prompted 
by  kindred  blood,  it  is  a  spontaneous 
tribute  to  their  helplessness,  their  inno- 
cence, or  their  beauty.  The  total  absence 
of  this  love  induces  a  suspicion  that  the 
heart  is  not  right.  "  Beware,"  said  Lavater,  "  of 
him  who  hates  the  laugh  of  a  child."  "  I  love  God 
and  every  little  child,"  was  the  simple,  yet  sublime 
sentiment  of  Richter.  The  man  of  the  world  pauses 
in  his  absorbing  career,  and  claps  his  hands  to  gain  an 
infant's  smile.  The  victim  of  vice  gazes  wistfully  on 
the  pure,  open  forehead  of  childhood,  and  retraces 
those  blissful  years  that  were  free  from  guile.  The 
man  of  piety  loves  that  docility  and  singleness  of 
heart  which  drew  from  his  Saviour's  lips  the  blessed 
words,  "Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

Elliot,  the  apostle  of  the    Indians,  amid  his  labori- 


536 


LOVE    OF   CHILDREN. 


ous  ministry  and  rude  companionship,  showed  in  all 
places  the  most  marked  attention  to  young  children. 
In  extreme  age,  when  his  head  was  white  as  the  Al- 
pine snows,  he  felt  his  heart  warm  at  their  approach. 
Many  a  pastor  whom  he  had  assisted  to  consecrate, 
bore  witness  to  the  pathos  of  his  appeal,  the  solemnity 
of  his  intonation,  when  he  charged  them  to  feed  the 
lambs. 

LOVE  OF  CHILDREN. 

The  love  of  children  in  man  is  a  virtue  ;  in  woman 
an  element  of  nature.  "  Love  children,"  said  Madame 
de  Maintenon  in  her  advice  to  the  young  dauphiness 
of  France  ;  "  whether  for  a  prince  or  a  peasant,  it  is 
the  most  amiable  accomplishment."  Young  ladies 
who  are  usually  so  anxious  to  please,  are  rarely  aware 
what  an  attraction  this  love,  when  pure  and  un- 
studied, imparts  to  their  manners.  For  no  man  can 
see  a  young  girl  bestowing  true  and  genuine  affection 
upon  a  child,  without  secretly  wishing  he  could 
honorably  transfer  it  to  himself.  It  was  this  very 
trait  in  the  character  of  Madame  that  won  the  heart 
of  Louis  the  Great.  When  she  was  governess  of 
his  children,  and  past  the  bloom  of  life,  he  surprised 
her  one  morning  in  the  royal  nursery,  sustaining  with 
one  arm  the  oldest  son,  then  feeble  from  the  effects 
of  a  fever,  and  rocking  with  the  other  hand  a  cradle 
in  which  lay  the  infant  princess,  while  on  her  lap  re- 
posed a  sleeping  infant.  His  tenderness  as  a  father, 
and  his  susceptibility  as  a  man,  accorded  to  her  that 
deep  admiration  which  would  have  been  denied  to 
the  splendor  of  dress,  the  parade  of  rank,  or  the 
blaze  of  beauty. 


LOVE    OF    CHILDREN.  537 

When  Rome  flourished,  a  Campanian  lady,  very 
rich  and  fond  of  pomp  and  show,  being  on  a  visit  to 
Cornelia,  the  illustrious  mother  of  the  eloquent 
Gracchi,  displayed  her  diamonds  and  jewels  some- 
what ostentatiously,  and  inquired  after  those  which 
belonged  to  Cornelia.  The  noble  mother  turned 
the  conversation  to  another  subject,  until  the  return 
of  her  sons  from  school,  when  she  pointed  to  them 
with  pride,  and  said  to  the  lady,  "  These  are  my 
jewels,  and  the  only  ornaments  I  admire."  It  is  told 
of  John  Trebonius,  the  German  schoolmaster  who 
instructed  Martin  Luther,  that  he  always  appeared 
before  his  boys  with  uncovered  head.  "  Who  can 
tell,"  said  he,  ''what  kind  of  a  man  may  yet  rise  up 
out  of  this  band  of  youths  ?  "  Even  then,  although 
he  knew  it  not,  there  was  among  them  the  "solitary 
monk  who  shook  the  world."  "  My  cousin  Mary  of 
Scotland  hath  a  fair  son  born  unto  her,  and  I  am  but 
a  dead  tree,"  said  Queen  Elizabeth,  while  the  scowl 
of  discontent  darkened  her  brow. 

The  simple  fact  is,  that  neither  men  nor  women 
can  be  developed  perfectly  who  have  not  had  the  dis- 
cipline of  bringing  up  children  to  maturity  of  life. 
You  mignt  as  well  say  that  a  tree  is  a  perfect  tree 
without  leaf  or  blossom,  as  to  say  that  of  a  man  or  a 
woman  who  has  gone  through  life  without  experi- 
encing the  influences  that  come  to  the  heart  from 
bending  down  and  giving  one's  self  up  to  those  who 
are  helpless  and  little.  For  those  "  melting  senti- 
ments of  kindly  care"  which  seize  on  parents, 
possess  a  wonderfully  moulding  potency.  A  home 
without  children  is  like  a  lantern  without  light,  a 
garden  without  flowers,  a  vine  without  grapes,  a 


538 


LOVE    OF    CHILDREN. 


brook   without  water  running  in  its  channel.     Says 
the  tender  and  true-hearted  Longfellow  : 

"Come  to  me,  O  ye  children! 

For  I  hear  you  at  your  play, 
And  the  questions  that  perplexed  me 

Have  vanished  quite  away. 
Ye  open  the  eastern  windows 

That  look  toward  the  sun, 
Where  thoughts  are  singing  swallows, 

And  the  brooks  of  morning  run! 

"Ah !  what  would  the  world  be  to  us, 

If  the  children  were  no  more? 
We  should  dread  the  desert  behind  us 

Worse  than  the  dark  before. 
Come  to  me,  O  ye  children! 

And  whisper  in  my  ear 
What  the  birds  and  the  winds  are  singing 

In  your  sunny  atmosphere. 

"  For  what  are  all  our  contrivings, 

And  the  wisdom  of  our  books, 
When  compared  with  your  caresses, 

And  the  gladness  of  your  looks? 
Ye  are  better  than  all  the  ballads 

That  ever  were  sung  or  said, 
For  ye  are  living  poems, 

And  all  the  rest  are  dead! " 

We  are  aware  that  many  parents  may  regard  this 
view  of  children  as  a  little  too  poetical  to  be  true  to 
life.  We  know  that  the  number  is  not  few  who  look 
upon  children  as  perfect  torments,  if  not  actual 
nuisances,  and  feel  like  echoing  the  sentiments  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  who  say,  in  regard  to  chil- 
dren, that  "crying,  they  creep  among  us  like  young 


HEARTLESS    PARENTS.  539 

cats,  cares  and  continual  crosses  keeping  with  them  ; " 
and  again,  that  "they  are  like  bells  rung  backward, 
nothing  but  noise  and  giddiness."  But  while  every 
experienced  parent  will  readily  admit  that  them  is  a 
practical,  an  unpoetical,  and  even  a  disagreeable  side 
to  children,  yet,  at  the  most,  this  is  only  the  rough 
husk  of  their  natures,  hiding  the  golden  kernels  of 
value  and  goodness  beneath.  Let  sickness  or  in- 
firmity quench  the  boisterous  vigor  of  their  animal 
vitality  for  a  time,  or  let  death  lay  his  dissolving 
hand  upon  their  .frames,  and  under  the  restraining 
discipline  of  the  sick-room,  or  before  the  spirit  takes 
its  flight,  you  will  be  able  to  discover  the  "  angels  " 
in  their  natures,  which,  the  Saviour  said,  "  do  always 
behold  the  face  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 
And  so  Mrs.  Hale  truly  declared  : 

"  The  history  of  Paradise 

To  woman's  faith  is  clear, 
For  happy  childhood  ever  brings 
The  Eden  vision  near." 

HEARTLESS  PARENTS. 

There  are  many  heartless  parents  who  say  and  feel 
that  it's  always  a  relief  to  them  to  get  their  children 
out  of  the  way.  So  a  mother  once  thought  who 
took  her  little  girl  from  the  nursery  and  bade  her 
elder  brother  lead  her  away  with  him  to  school. 
There  she  sat  upon  the  hard  bench,  her  tiny  feet 
swinging  above  the  floor  until  the  feebly  strung  mus- 
cles were  weary,  and  in  pain.  She  looked  upon  the 
ways  of  naughty  children,  and  imbibed  from  them 
more  of  evil  than  of  good.  As  she  was  proceeding 


540 


HEARTLESS    PARENTS. 


homeward  one  day,  her  brother  left  her  for  a  moment 
to  slide  down  an  ice-covered  hill.  He  charged  her 
to  wait  for  him  in  the  spot  where  he  placed  her. 
But  .soon  she  attempted  to  run  to  him.  A  pair  of 
gay  horses  threw  her  down,  and  a  loaded  sleigh  pass- 
ing over  her,  literally  divided  her  breast.  She  was 
taken  up  lifeless,  a  crushed  and  broken  flower.  She 
was  out  of  the  way. 

Another  mother  in  one  of  our  country  towns  had 
a  large  family  of  daughters.  She  thought  it  would 
be  a  relief  to  her,  if  but  one  of  them  were  out  of  the 
way.  So  she  selected  the  wildest  to  be  sent  to  a 
boarding-school.  She  had  been  accustomed  to  rural 
sports  and  employments,  and  free  exercise  about  her 
father's  grounds.  The  impure  atmosphere  of  a 
crowded  city  in  summer,  and  close  stoves  in  winter,  the 
comparative  and  enervating  stillness  of  the  whole  year, 
induced  a  change  of  habits,  and  a  general  declension  of 
health.  Long  sitting  at  the  piano,  and  the  rigid 
compression  of  false  dressing,  disturbed  and  weak- 
ened the  powers  of  life.  When  she  returned  home 
on  vacations,  the  parents  exultingly  observed  how 
lady-like  she  had  grown,  and  how  much  fairer  she 
was  than  her  ruddy  sisters.  But  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore spinal  disease  set  in,  and  all  muscular  energy 
was  lost.  Debility  and  confinement  cut  her  off  from 
society,  and  from  the  joys  of  life.  She  was  out  of  the 
way. 

We  have  already  alluded  to  the  baleful  practice  of 
some  parents  in  putting  their  children  entirely  in  the 
care  of  hirelings,  and  confining  them  within  the 
bounds  of  the  nursery.  A  young  mother  once  com- 
plained that  her  children  were  so  numerous  and  so 


HEARTLESS    PARENTS.  541 

near  of  an  age,  that  she  had  neither  repose  nor  com- 
fort. She  found  it  impossible  to  nurse  them,  and  her 
husband  also  thought  it  might  hurt  her  form.  Ac- 
cordingly the  nursery  was  placed  in  the  highest  story 
of  her  lofty  house,  that  she  need  not  be  disturbed  by 
its  noise.  She  said  she  went  there  "as  often  as  pos- 
sible, though  it  was  excessively  fatiguing  to  climb 
those  endless  stairs."  But  she  always  procured  an 
ample  number  of  nurses,  without  reference  to  ex- 
j  ense,  and  was  satisfied  that  they  had  the  most  excel- 
l  it  care.  One  day  she  was  informed  that  her 
youngest  child  was  sick.  She  went  to  it,  but  thought 
the  nurse  was  unnecessarily  alarmed.  She  staid  with 
it  as  long  as  was  in  her  power,  considering  she  was 
engaged  to  a  ball  that  evening.  After  she  was  en- 
tirely dressed,  she  took  pains  to  come  up  again  and 
inquire  after  it.  The  nurse  told  her  it  was  no  better. 
She  was  sure  the  nurse  was  unreasonably  timid.  It 
had  but  a  slight  cough.  Still,  she  did  not  remain  at 
the  ball  as  late  as  usual,  or  dance  with  her  usual 
spirit.  She  said  to  her  husband,  that  such  was  her 
anxiety  for  the  little  one,  that  she  should  not  have  gone 
at  all,  had  she  not  felt  under  the  strongest  obliga- 
tions to  attend  the  first  entertainment  of  her  most 
particular  friend.  At  her  return,  she  hastened  to  the 
nursery.  The  hopeless  stage  of  croup  had  seized  the 
agonizing  victim.  Another  also  betrayed  the  same 
fatal  indications.  The  skill  of  the  physician,  and  the 
frantic  grief  of  the  mother,  were  alike  vain.  With 
the  fearful  suddenness  which  often  marks  the  termina- 
tion of  the  diseases  of  infancy,  two  beautiful  beings 
soon  lay  like  sculptured  marble.  They  were  out  of 
the  way. 


542 


HOW    TO    BRING    UP    CHILDREN. 


Instead,  therefore, .  of  treating  the  little  ones  in 
any  such  manner,  it  will  be  better  to  follow  the  spirit 
and  advice  of  the  following  poem  taken  from  the 
Scottish  American  Journal! 

"  Gather  them  close  to  your  loving  heart — 

Cradle  them  on  your  breast; 

They  will  soon  enough  leave  your  brooding  care, 
Soon  enough  mount  youth's  topmost  stair — 
Little  ones  in  the  nest. 

"  Fret  not  that  the  children's  hearts  are  gay, 

That  their  restless  feet  will  run: 
There  may  come  a  time  in  the  bye  and  bye, 
When  you'll  sit  in  your  lonely  room  and  sigh 

For  a  sound  of  childish  fun ; 

"  When  you'll  long  for  a  repetition  sweet 

That  sounded  through  each  room, 
Of  «  Mother,'  '  Mother,'   the  dear  love-calls 
That  will  echo  long  in  the  silent  halls, 
And  add  to  their  stately  gloom. 

"  There  may  come  a  time  when  you'll  long  to  hear 

The  eager,  boyish  tread, 
The  tuneless  whistle,  the  clear,  shrill  shout, 
The  busy  bustle  in  and  out, 
And  pattering  overhead. 

"  Whe  .  the  boys  and  girls  are  aH  grown  up, 

And  scattered  far  and  wide, 
Or  gone  to  the  undiscovered  shore, 
Where  youth  and  age  come  nevermore, 

You  will  miss  them  from  your  side." 


HOW  TO  BRING  UP  CHILDREN. 

Where  and  how  to  bring  up  children,  has  been  the 
subject  of  many  a  parent's  anxious  thought.     To  all 


BOYHOOD'S  REVERIE. 


HOW    TO    BRING    UP    CHILDREN.  543 

who  may  be  still  in  doubt  with  regard  to  the  matter, 
we  heartily  commend  the  following  suggestions  from 
Dr.  J.  G.  Holland  : 

A  very  instructive  story  is  told  of  the  little  Duke 
of  Reichstadt,  the  ill-starred  son  of  the  first  Napo- 
leon. He  was  standing  at  a  window  of  the  palace 
where  he  was  reared,  at  Vienna,  looking  out  upon  a 
scene  which  quite  absorbed  his  attention.  There  had 
been  a  shower,  which  left  in  a  favorable  hollow  of 
the  street,  that  marvelous  fountain  of  juvenile  enjoy- 
ment, a  "  mud-puddle."  At  the  side  of  this,  squatted 
a  little  boy,  barefoot  and  bareheaded,  paddling  in  the 
water,  sailing  his  little  boats,  and  amusing  himself 
after  the  manner  of  small  boys.  At  this  moment 
packages  of  choice  gifts  were  brought  into  the  room, 
— gifts  from  friends  of  the  -little  duke's  imperial 
father, — and  the  child's  attention  was  called  to  them. 
He  regarded  them  listlessly  ;  and  when  his  attendants 
asked  him  if  he  did  not  feel  very  grateful  to  those 
who  had  so  kindly  remembered  him,  he  replied  that 
he  would  rather  go  out  of  doors  and  play  in  the  mud- 
puddle  with  the  little  boy,  than  to  have  all  the  gifts 
they  could  send  him.  That  little  touch  of  nature  is 
the  best  thing  that  history  records  concerning  Napo- 
leon II.  ;  and  if  it  is  not  strictly  true,  it  ought  to 
have  been,  and  might  have  been.  The  reply  be- 
trayed an  unsatisfied  hunger  of  a  spirit,  and  a  most 
unnatural  nurture ;  and  there  is  not  a  boy  in  the 
world  who  would  fail  to  understand  his  feeling,  and 
to  sympathize  with  it. 

All  children  believe  in  the  olden  chemistry,  and 
divide  matter  into  four  elements, — earth,  air,  water, 
and  fire.  For  all  these,  they  have  an  affection  which 

3S 


544  HOW    TO    BRING    UP    CHILDREN. 

time  never  obliterates,  and  which  only  the  absorbing 
pursuits  of  adult  life  temporarily  suppress.  With 
pure  air  to  breathe,  and  dirt,  water,  and  fire  to  play 
with,  their  cup  of  enjoyment  is  as  full  as  it  can  be. 
Every  child,  as  it  turns  its  head  from  its  mother's 
breast,  turns  to  these  elements  with  an  unerring  in- 
stinct ;  and  while  the  dangerous  charm  of  fire  is  pru- 
dently removed  till  judgment  gives  the  power  to 
handle,  it  is  no  man's  right  to  deny  to  the  little 
neophyte,  air,  dirt,  and  water. 

One  of  the  ordinary  events  of  spring  in  the 
country  is  the  sending  off  to  pasturage  for  the  sea- 
son, droves  of  young  cattle ;  kept  in  stalls  or 
cooped  up  in  oozy  yards,  fed  upon  husks  and  hay 
through  the  long  winter  and  spring,  they  are  released 
at  last,  and  on  some  sweet  May  morning  are  driven 
away  in  frolicsome  herds  to  the  mountain  pastures, 
where,  feeding  upon  the  tender  grasses,  and  drinking 
the  hillside  water,  and  roaming  and  reveling  at  will, 
they  remain  until  the  autumn  frosts  drive  them  home 
for  food  and  shelter.  They  go  out  thin,  shaggy,  and 
dirty ;  they  return  sleek  and  plump,  and  ready  either 
for  the  knife  of  the  butcher,  or  for  domestic  service. 
It  is  in  the  pasture  that  the  cattle  and  colts  grow. 
They  get  muscle  and  health  by  roaming  and  feeding 
and  sleeping  in  the  open  air. 

Now,  in  one  respect,  children  need  to  be  regarded 
and  treated  as  young  animals.  Their  particular 
business  is  to  grow,  and  to  grow  healthy  and  sound. 
Among  the  many  obligations  which  a  parent  owes  to 
the  child  he  has  called  into  existence,  not  the 
smallest  is  that  of  giving  him,  to  the  extent  of  his 
ability  to  do  so,  a  sound  and  well-developed  body. 


PLAY.  545 

Without  this,  wealth  is  of  little  worth,  or  splendid 
intellectual  gifts,  or  fine  accomplishments,  or  excel- 
lent education.  Without  this,  he  can  be  of  com- 
paratively little  use  to  the  world,  and  of  little  com- 
fort to  himself.  With  it,  he  can  be  both  useful  and 
happy.  If,  therefore,  country  air,  and  country  exer- 
cise and  food  are  essential  to  the  sound  develop- 
ment of  the  child,  he  should  have  them,  even  at  the 
expense  of  some  of  those  possessions  which  parents 
are  so  apt  to  overrate,  and  so  covetous  to  secure  for 
their  offspring.  Let  the  children  be  taken  to  pasture, 
then,  as  regularly  as  the  calves  and  the  colts,  while 
we  tell  with  some  detail,  what  the  process  will  do  for 
them. 

PLAY 

The  boy  left  free  to  play  in  the  fields  and  woods, 
will,  in  a  single  day,  run  more  miles,  and  exercise 
healthfully,  more  muscles,  than  could  be  matched  by 
the  "  light  gymnastics "  for  a  week.  This  he  does 
in  pure  sport.  Running,  climbing,  riding,  swimming, 
rowing,  tossing,  batting,  jumping,  wrestling,  fishing, 
see-sawing,  rolling  and  tumbling,  day  after  day  ;  there 
is  not  a  muscle  in  his  little  body  that  he  does  not 
bring  into  play,  without  a  motive  that  urges  from  be- 
hind, and  solely  for  the  gratification  of  his  greed  for 
amusement.  Nowhere  can  he  get  this  free  and  full 
exercise,  except  in  the  country.  It  is  impossible  in 
the  city.  A  child  that  undertakes  anything  more  than 
a  walk  in  the  street,  gets  kicked  by  a  passenger,  or 
run  over  by  a  horse  ;  and  back  yards  are  largely  de- 
voted to  rubbish  and  clothes-lines. 

That  there  is  virtue  in  water,  all  are  ready  to  ad- 


mit ;  but  all  are  not  so  sure  that  there  is  virtue  in 
dirt.  Nevertheless,  if  there  were  more  dabbling  in 
dirt,  the  children  would  be  healthier.  A  dirty  child 
is  not  a  pleasant  object  to  contemplate,  or  a  pretty 
thing  to  kiss  and  caress,  but  he  quite  frequently  has 
that  about  him  which  is  a  good  deal  more  valuable 
than  tidy  clothes  and  a  clean  person.  When  we  talk 
of  dirty  children,  we  make  no  distinction  between 
those  who  are  made  foul  by  the  excretions  of  their 
skins,  and  those  who  are  made  thus  by  accretions 
from  the  chemical  mixture  which  we  call  dirt.  Noth- 
ing is  cleaner  than  dirt.  Dirt  is  not  filth.  It  soils 
linen  and  discolors  the  face  and  hands,  but  it  is  essen- 
tially as  clean  as  flour,  and  would  not  injure  the  ten- 
derest  child  if  it  were  rubbed  all  over  with  it, 
which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  any  of  the  cos- 
metics so  freely  used  by  the  child's  mother  and  his 
grown-up  sisters.  The  popular  theories  are  all 
wrong  in  this  matter ;  and  they  are  all  opposed  to 
the  unperverted  instincts  of  the  child.  If  we  can 
only  remember  that  dirt  is  not  filth,  but  is  a  perfectly 
clean  and  healthy  compound,  we  shall  save  ourselves 
much  trouble,  and  do  our  children  great  good. 


JOT. 


What  untold  joy  does  the  young  girl  have  in  her 
first  housekeeping  in  the  sand  !  What  delicious  pies 
are  those  which  she  makes  of  mud,  and  bakes  in  the 
sun  !  Brains  must  be  busy ;  and  how  much  better 
is  this  outworking  of  the  mind  in  healthful  play, 
than  the  drinking  in  of  countless  stories  about  impos- 
sible children  who  never  did  anything  wrong,  and 


JOY.  547 

always  kept  their  clothes  clean,  besides  doing  many 
other  wonderful  things,  and  then  dying  early. 

The  health-giving  influence  of  the  sunlight  is  not 
to  be  forgotten.  It  is  impossible  to  know  how  much 
of  the  sickness  of  children  reared  in  damp  cellars 
and  crowded  rookeries  of  houses  is  attributable  to 
impure  air,  and  how  much  to  the  absence  of  sunlight. 
It  is  just  as  impossible  to  know  the  proportionate 
agency  of  light  and  pure  air  in  restoring  these  chil- 
dren to  health  in  the  summer  pasturing. 

Life  in  the  city  is  an  unnatural  life  to  the  child, 
and  is  almost  certain  to  generate  morbid  appetites, 
especially  in  the  matter  of  food.  A  life  that  is 
purely  artificial  in  all  its  surroundings,  and  unnatural 
in  its  restraints  and  repressions,  can  hardly  fail,  in 
constitutions  at  all  delicate,  to  induce  unhealthy  and 
capricious  appetites.  Many  a  city  child  fails  to  find 
the  simpler  viands  of  the  table  at  all  satisfactory. 
Bread  and  butter,  bread  and  milk,  and  the  plain 
vegetables,  have  no  attractions  for  him.  He  craves 
flesh  and  sweetmeats,  and  strong  condiments,  and 
delicate  morsels  ;  and  that  he  may  not  go  without 
food,  he  is  tempted  with  these,  and  indulged  in  them, 
until  he  becomes  as  delicate  as  the  food  he  eats. 

There  is  nothing  that  will  work  a  reform  in  this 
matter,  but  life  and  free  play  in  the  country  air.  A 
child  that  plays  all  day  long,  under  pleasant  and 
healthful  excitement,  has  an  appetite  for  the  simplest 
and  best  food,  and  is  entirely  satisfied  with  it. 
There  is  probably  not  a  country-bred  man  or  woman 
living,  who  has  ever  found  in  the  luxuries  of  later 
life,  anything  so  sweet  and  satisfactory  as  the  simple 
meals  with  which  he  satisfied  the  play-begotten  ap- 


54-8  EARLY    HAPPINESS. 

petite  of  childhood.  How  frequently  the  morbid 
appetites  generated  in  city  living,  are  the  basis  of  a 
destructive  love  of  stimulants,  may  be  left  to  each 
reader's  estimate  of  probabilities.  There  are  no  data 
at  hand  for  an  intelligent  decision  ;  but  that  they 
have  an  important  influence  in  this  respect,  can 
hardly  admit  of  rational  doubt. 

EARLT  HAPPINESS. 

The  memory  of  early  happiness  is  a  treasure- 
house  of  sweet  comforts  and  consolations.  Its  pure, 
simple,  earnest  joys  become  wells  to  draw  from 
whenever  we  sit  down  in  thirst  and  weariness  by  the 
dusty  highway  of  life.  Of  this  one  good,  the  world 
can  never  cheat  us.  The  sunshine  of  those  days 
reaches  across  our  little  stretch  of  life,  and  mingles 
its  rays  with  those  which  beam  from  the  heaven  of 
our  hope.  The  actual  present  of  the  adult  life,  and 
the  materials  which  enter  into  it,  are  made  up,  more 
than  we  generally  suppose,  of  reminiscence.  We 
ruminate  like  the  kine.  We  lay  up  in  the  receptacles 
of  memory,  abundance  of  undigested  material,  which 
we  recall  and  appropriate  to  our  refreshment  and 
nourishment ;  and  this  process  of  reminiscence — of 
living  life  over  again, — grows  upon  us  as  we  grow  in 
years,  till  at  last  it  becomes  our  all.  Exhausted 
power  has  no  resource  but  to  dwell  upon  its  old  plays 
and  its  old  achievements.  How  sad  is  he  who  can 
never  go  back  to  his  childhood  without  a  shudder ; 
who  can  never  recall  a  period  when  his  life  was  filled 
with  sweet  and  simple  satisfactions  ! 


HOUSEHOLD  VIRTUES. 


549 


HOUSEHOLD   VIRTUES. 


"  Say,  what  have  you  brought  to  our  own  fireside? 

'Twas  the  mother's  voice  that  spoke; 
A  common  stock  is  our  happiness  here, 

Each  heart  must  contribute  its  mite 
The  bliss  to  swell,  or  the  pain  to  cheer; 
Son  and  daughter,  and  husband  dear, 

What  have  you  brought  to-night?" 

MRS.  SlGOURNEY. 

E  will  begin  our  list  of  these  virtues  with 
family  government.  In  a  well-ordered 
household  the  parents  must  establish 
their  will  as  the  law,  and  do  it  early,  for 
docility  is  impaired  by  delay.  It  is  the 
truest  love  to  save  the  little  child  all 
those  conflicts  of  feeling  which  must 
continue  as  long  as  it  remains  doubtful  who  is  to  be 
its  guide. 

It  is  a  simple  precept  in  philosophy  that  obedience 
should  be  the  most  entire  and  unconditional,  where 
reason  is  the  weakest.  Its  requisitions  should  be  en- 
forced in  proportion  to  the  want  of  intelligence  in 
the  subject.  The  parent  is  emphatically  a  light  to 
those  who  sit  in  darkness.  The  transition  from  the 
dreamy  existence  of  infancy,  to  the  earliest  activity 
of  childhood,  is  a  period  when  parental  authority  is 
eminently  needful  to  repress  evil,  and  preserve  happi- 


55O  KINDNESS. 

ness.  But  it  must  have  been  established  before  in 
order  to  be  in  readiness  then.  Without  this  rudder, 
the  little  voyager  is  liable  to  be  thrown  among  the 
eddies  of  its  own  passions,  and  wrecked  like  the  bark 
canoe. 

In  saying^  this,  however,  we  would  not  be  consid- 
ered as  the  advocate  of  austerity.  Family  govern- 
ment can  be  overdone  as  well  as  neglected.  Children 
can  be  spoiled  just  as  easily  by  a  constant  application 
of  the  rod  of  correction,  as  by  omitting  the  use  of  it 
altogether.  But  as  the  substitution  of  your  wisdom 
in  the  place  of  the  wayward  impulses  of  your  child 
is  the  truest  kindness,  so  it  is  a  feature  of  that  kind- 
ness to  commence  it  when  it  may  be  done  with  the 
greatest  ease.  Gentleness,  combined  with* firmness, 
will  teach  it  easily  to  an  infant,  but  wait  too  long, 
and  it  may  not  be  so.  Obedience  to  a  mind  in  its 
formative  state,  is  like  the  silken  thread  by  which 
the  plant  is  drawn  toward  its  prop  ;  but  enforced  too 
late,  it  is  like  the  lasso  with  which  the  wild  horse  is 
caught  and  subdued,  requiring  dexterity  to  throw, 
and  seventy  to  manage. 

KINDNESS. 

Children  should  early  be  taught  the  law  of  kind- 
ness to  all  creatures  about  them.  Draw  back  the 
little  hand  lifted  to  strike  the  unoffending  dog  or  cat. 
Perhaps  they  will  not  understand  that  they  are  in- 
flicting pain,  but  it  will  be  best  to  cultivate  in  them 
an  opposite  habit.  It  was  Benedict  Arnold,  the 
traitor,  who,  in  his  boyhood,  loved  to  destroy  insects, 
mutilate  toads,  steal  the  eggs  of  the  mourning  bird, 


KINDNESS.  551 

and  torture  quiet  domestic  animals,  that  eventually 
laid  waste  the  shrinking  domestic  charities,  and 
would  have  drained  the  life-blood  of  his  endangered 
country,  had  he  not  been  thwarted.  "  Do  you  love 
me  well  ?"  the  musician  Mozart  asked  in  his  infancy 
of  all  the  servants  of  his  father,  as  one  after  the 
other  they  passed  him  in  their  various  employments. 
And  if  any  among  them,  to  tease  him,  answered 
"  No,"  he  covered  his  baby-face  and  wept. 

Kind  words  and  affectionate  epithets  between  chil- 
dren of  the  same  family,  are  important.  Though 
the  love  of  brothers  and  sisters  is  planted  deep  in 
the  heart,  and  seldom  fails  to  reveal  itself  in  every 
trying  emergency,  yet  its  developments  and  daily  in- 
terchange ask  the  regulation  of  paternal  care.  Com- 
petitions should  be  soothed,  differences  composed, 
and  forbearance  required,  on  the  broad  principle  of 
fraternal  duty.  A  pleasant  story  is  told  of  the  love 
of  the  Emperor  Titus,  for  his  brother  Domitian.  It 
was  the  more  praiseworthy  because  there  was  be- 
tween them  no  congeniality  of  taste.  Domitian  often 
spoke  unkindly  to  his  brother,  and  after  his  elevation 
to  the  throne,  even  attempted  to  instigate  the  army 
to  rebellion.  But  Titus  made  no  change  in  his  treat- 
ment. He  would  not  suffer  others  to  mention  him 
with  disrespect.  He  ever  spoke  of  him  as  his  be- 
loved brother,  his  successor  to  the  empire.  Some- 
times when  they  were  alone,  he  earnestly  entreated 
him  with  tears,  to  reciprocate  that  love  which  he  had 
always  borne  him,  and  would  continue  to  bear  him  to 
the  end  of  life. 

The  deportment  of  the  older  children  of  a  family 
is  of  great  importance  to  the  younger  members. 


55* 


PARENTAL    LOVE. 


Their  spirit  affects  more  or  less  the  whole  circle. 
Especially  is  the  position  of  the  eldest  daughter  one 
of  responsibility.  She  drank  the  first  draught  of 
the  mother's  love.  She  usually  enjoys  most  of  her 
counsel  and  companionship.  In  her  absence,  she  is 
the  natural  viceroy.  Let  the  mother  take  double 
pains  to  form  her  on  a  correct  model,  to  make  her 
amiable,  wise,  and  good. 

PARENTAL  LOVE. 


Filial  love  should  be  cherished.  It  has  especially 
a  softening  and  ennobling  effect  on  the  masculine 
heart.  It  has  been  remarked  that  almost  all  illustri- 
ous men  have  been  distinguished  by  love  for  their 
mother.  It  is  mentioned  by  Miss  Pardoe  that  a 
"beautiful  feature  in  the  character  of  the  Turks  is 
reverence  for  the  mother.  Their  wives  may  advise 
or  reprimand,  unheeded,  but  their  mother  is  an 
oracle,  consulted,  confided  in,  listened  to  with  respect 
and  deference,  honored  to  the  latest  hour,  and  re- 
membered with  affection  and  regret,  even  beyond 
the  grave."  "Wives  may  die,"  say  they,  "  and  we 
can  replace  them,  children  perish,  and  others  may  be 
born  to  us,  but  who  shall  restore  the  mother  when 
she  passes  away,  and  is  seen  no  more  ?" 

A  mother  who  was  in  the  habit  of  asking  her  chil- 
dren before  they  retired  at  night,  what  they  had  done 
through  the  day  to  make  others  happy,  found  her 
young  twin  daughters  silent.  The  older  ones  spoke 
modestly  of  deeds  and  dispositions  founded  on  the 
golden  rule,  "  Do  unto  others  as  you  would  that  they 
should  do  unto  you."  Still  those  little  bright  faces 


HOUSEHOLD    ORDER.  553 

were  bowed  down  in  serious  silence.  The  question 
was  repeated.  "  I  can  remember  nothing  good  all 
this  day,  dear  mother,  only  one  of  my  schoolmates 
was  happy,  because  she  had  gained  the  head  of  the 
class,  and  I  smiled  on  her,  and  ran  to  kiss  her,  and 
she  said  I  was  good.  This  is  all,  dear  mother." 

The  other  spoke  still  more  timidly.  "  A  little  girl 
who  sat  by  me  on  the  bench  at  school,  had  lost  a  baby 
brother.  I  saw  that  while  she  studied  her  lesson, 
she  hid  her  face  in  her  book  and  wept.  I  felt  sorry, 
and  laid  my  face  on  the  same  book,  and  wept  with 
her.  Then  she  looked  up  and  was  comforted,  and 
put  her  arms  around  my  neck.  But  I  do  not  know 
why  she  said  that  I  had  done  her  good."  The  mother 
knew  how  to  prize  the  first  blossoms  of  sympathy. 
She  said,  "Come  to  my  arms,  beloved  ones;  to  re- 
joice with  those  who  rejoice,  and  weep  with  those 
who  weep,  is  to  obey  our  blessed  Redeemer." 

HOUSEHOLD  ORDER. 

"  Women  were  made  to  give  our  eyes  delight, 
A  female  sloven  is  an  odious  sight." 

— YOUNG. 

The  importance  of  this  essential  household  virtue 
can  best  be  illustrated  by  a  little  home-picture. 
"  Mother,  will  you  please  tell  me  if  you  have  seen 
my  thimble?"  "Martha,  I  thought  you  had  a  place 
for  your  thimble."  "  So  I  have,  dear  mother,  but  it 
does  not  happen  to  be  in  the  place." 

To  have  a  place  for  things  and  not  keep  them  in 
it,  is  like  having  wise  laws,  and  paying  no  regard  to 


554 


HOUSEHOLD    ORDER. 


them.  A  nation  will  not  be  the  better  for  its  laws, 
unless  it  enforces  them,  nor  a  child  for  being  told  its 
duty,  unless  it  tries  to  obey. 

Martha's  fault  was  a  want  of  order.  Her  working 
materials  were  scattered  about  the  house.  She  was 
obliged  to  spend  much  time  in  searching  for  them. 
When  the  school-bell  rang  some  of  her  books  could 

o 

not  be  found.  Perhaps  her  bonnet,  or  shawl,  or 
gloves,  were  mislaid.  She  felt  ashamed  to  be  so 
often  inquiring  for  what  she  ought  to  have  kept  in 
their  own  place,  so  she  sometimes  went  without 
necessary  articles,  and  was  unprepared  at  school,  or 
looked  slovenly  in  the  street. 

She  was  a  girl  of  good  disposition.  But  this  fault 
occasioned  her  to  be  much  blamed,  and  instead  of 
being  cheerful,  with  a  consciousness  of  right  conduct, 
she  was  often  disgraced  and  unhappy.  When  she 
grew  up,  she  carried  these  careless  habits  into  her 
housekeeping.  Though  she  had  a  kind  heart,  dis- 
order and  discomfort  were  in  her  family.  Nothing 
was  in  its  right  place.  She  was  always  in  a  hurry. 
This  is  an  evil  which  comes  upon  those  who  have  not 
the  spirit  of  order.  Her  countenance,  which  used  to 
be  pleasant,  soon  wore  a  troubled  and  bewildered 
expression.  Wrinkles  came,  over  her  forehead  be- 
fore it  was  time  to  be  old.  Her  children  imitated 
her,  and  kept  none  of  their  things  in  the  right  place. 
One  would  complain  of  a  lost  hat  or  cloak,  and  an- 
other of  a  broken  doll  or  lost  playthings.  The 
mother  of  course  fretted  loudly  at  them  for  faults 
which  grew  out  of  her  own  careless  habits. 

Martha  had  a  cousin  who  lived  near  her,  by  the 
name  of  Mary.  They  were  of  the  same  age,  and 


HOUSEHOLD   ORDER.  555 

often  played  together,  and  sat  in  the  same  seat  at 
school.  But  Mary  always  took  good  care  of  her 
things.  When  she  had  finished  sewing,  her  needle 
was  returned  to  the  case,  and  her  thimble  and  scis- 
sors to  the  work-basket.  Her  clothes  were  folded 
and  laid  away  in  the  drawers,  or  hung  up  in  the 
closets  where  they  belonged.  The  same  was  true  of 
her  school-books,  pens,  ink,  and  paper.  If  it  had 
been  dark,  she  could  have  laid  her  hand  upon  all  her 
things, — for  she  remembered  their  places,  and  knew 
that  they  were  there.  She  had  fewer  things  than  her 
cousin  Martha,  because  her  parents  were  not  so  rich. 
But  she  had  more  that  were  ready  for  use.  Her 
clothes  lasted  longer,  and  looked  neater. 

When  she  had  a  house  of  her  own,  every  article  in 
it  had  a  place,  and  all  who  used  it  were  required  to 
put  it  back  there.  One  of  her  first  rules  to  her  chil- 
dren when  very  young  was,  "  A  place  for  everything, 
and  everything  in  its  place."  And  she  obliged  them 
to  obey  this  rule.  So  her  family  were  in  order,  and 
its  daily  labor  went  on  like  clock-work.  Her  coun- 
tenance was  pleasant  and  peaceful,  like  one  who  does 
right.  And  though  she  was  not  as  handsome  as 
Martha,  it  was  more  agreeable  to  look  at  her,  be- 
cause she  was  never  in  a  hurry.  Her  quietness  of 
mind  seemed  to  proceed  from  a  sense  of  justice,  or 
of  doing  her  duty,  for  we  owe  a  duty  to  every  article 
in  our  possession,  and  to  every  utensil  with  which  we 
work ;  the  duty  of  keeping  them  in  order,  and  in 
good  condition.  In  fact,  there  can  be  no  comfort  in 
a  household  without  order,  for  order  is  Heaven's  first 
law,  and  as  the  perfect  type  of  home  is  a  dwelling- 
place  in  the  happy  mansions  above,  so  the  item  of 


556          SKETCH  OF  A  HAPPY  FAMILY. 

order  forms  no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  make-up  of 
a  happy  and  joyous  home. 

SKETCH  OF  A  HAPPT  FAMILT. 

Study  closely  the  following  sketch  of  a  "  happy 
family,"  and  you  will  discover  that  order  and  industry 
constituted  the  two  principal  ingredients  in  their  cup 
of  blessing.  The  sketch  takes  us  back  to  farm-life 
in  the  olden  time.  Says  the  writer  who  drew  the 
picture  from  life  :  "  The  whole  family  rose  before  the 
sun.  After  an  early  breakfast,  every  one  proceeded 
to  the  business  of  the  day.  The  farmer  and  his  sons 
went  with  their  workmen  to  the  field.  The  swift 
strokes  of  the  churn  were  then  heard,  changing  the 
rich  cream  to  the  golden-colored  butter.  Others 
were  watching  the  progress  of  the  cheese  from  its 
first  consolidation  to,  its  reception  in  the  press,  and 
its  daily  attention  in  the  dairy. 

"  Above  stairs,  the  sound  of  the  loom  and  the  flight 
of  the  shuttle  allured  me.  There,  various  fabrics  for 
the  comfort  of  the  family  were  wrought  out,  from 
the  carpet  on  which  they  trod,  to  the  snowy  linen 
that  covered  their  beds,  and  the  firm  garments  from 
the  fleece  of  their  sheep  in  which  they  fearlessly 
braved  the  cold  of  winter.  But  my  delight  was  es- 
pecially in  the  spinning  room.  There  the  wheels 
turned  swiftly  with  merry  music.  The  step  of  the 
spinner  was  light,  and  the  face  cheerful,  as  she  drew 
even  threads  from  the  fair  white  roll,  or  the  blue  one 
that  was  to  furnish  stockings  for  the  father  and 
brothers.  Masses  of  yarn  assorted  according  to  its 
various  texture  and  destination,  hung  upon  the  wall. 


SKETCH    OF    A    HAPPY    FAMILY.  557 

The  flying  reel  told  audibly  the  amount  of  every 
spindle,  and  pronounced  when  the  useful  task  of  the 
day  was  done. 

"The  daughters  of  the  family  had  blooming  and 
happy  countenances.  They  used  their  strength  freely 
in  domestic  toils,  and  when  they  went  out  to  any 
distance,  rode  well  and  fearlessly  on  horseback. 
They  seemed  never  to  have  any  nervous  complaints, 
or  to  need  a  physician.  Exercise,  the  healthful  food 
on  which  they  fed,  together  with  their  own  happy 
spirits,  constituted  their  medicines. 

"  The  mother  superintended  all,  and  taught  them 
every  necessary  employment  by  first  taking  part  in  it 
herself.  She  sent  to  market  in  the  best  order  the 
surplus  of  her  dairy,  poultry  yard,  and  loom.  It  was 
her  ambition  that  the  finer  parts  of  the  wardrobe  of 
herself  and  family,  should  be  procured  without 
making  any  demands  upon  the  purse  of  her  husband. 
When  her  eldest  daughters  desired  to  have  some 
money  of  their  own  to  buy  books  and  other  things 
with,  she  gave  them  a  room  in  which  to  rear  silk- 
worms, and  there  they  tended  the  curious  insect  which 
changes  from  a  little  mustard-seed  egg,  to  a  cell  of 
silken  tapestry,  when  it  gathers  up  its  feet  to  die. 

"  Their  small  skeins  of  silk  tastefully  arranged  for 
sale,  imitated  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  and  they 
were  delighted  to  find  how  soon  the  wand  of  industry 
could  convert  the  mulberry  leaf  to  silk,  and  the  silk 
to  gold.  They  also  aided  their  younger  brothers  in 
a  pursuit  which  interested  them, — the  care  of  bees. 
Rows  of  hives  were  ranged  in  a  sunny  and  genial 
spot.  Beds  of  flowers  and  fragrant  herbs  were 
planted  to  accommodate  the  winged  chemists.  The 


558 


SKETCH    OF    A    HAPPY    FAMILY. 


purest  honey  gave  variety  to  their  table,  and  the  sur- 
plus with  the  wax  that  was  made  from  the  comb, 
were  among  the  most  salable  articles  of  their  do- 
mestic manufacture. 

"  The  long  winter  evenings  in  the  farmer's  house 
were  delightful.  More  healthy  and  happy  faces  I 
have  never  seen.  Yet  there  was  perfect  order.  For 
the  parents,  who  commanded  respect,  were  always 
seated  among  the  children.  And  in  the  corner,  in 
the  warmest  place,  was  the  silver-haired  grandmother 
with  her  clean  cap,  who  was  counted  as  an  oracle. 

"  The  father  or  his  sons  read  aloud  such  works  as 
mingle  entertainment  with  instruction.  The  females 
listened  with  interest,  or  made  remarks  with  anima- 
tion, though  their  busy  hands  directed  the  flight  of 
the  needle,  or  made  the  stocking  grow.  The  quiet 
hum  of  the  flax-wheel  was  held  no  interruption  to 
the  scene,  or  to  the  voice  of  the  reader.  The  neigh- 
bor coming  in,  was  greeted  with  a  cordial  welcome, 
and  a  simple  hospitality.  Rows  of  ruddy  apples 
roasted  before  the  fire,  and  various  nuts  from  their 
own  forest-trees,  were  an  appropriate  treat  for  the 
social  winter  evening,  where  heart  opened  to  heart. 
Sometimes  the  smaller  children  clustered  around  the 
grandmother's  chair,  when  she  told  them  of  the  days 
when  she  was  young,  and  of  the  changes  that  her 
life  had  known. 

"  During  my  visit  to  this  well-regulated  family,  I 
was  often  led  to  reflect  on  the  peculiar  advantages  of 
a  farmer's  lot.  He  is  the  possessor  of  true  inde- 
pendence. Sheltered  from  those  risks  and  reverses 
which  in  crowded  cities  await  those  who  make  haste 
to  be  rich,  he  feels  that  patient  industry  will  insure  a 


RESPECT    FOR    THE    AGED.  559 

competent  support  for  himselr  and  family.  His 
children  are  a  part  of  his  wealth.  They  are  a  capital 
whose  value  increases  every  year  that  they  remain 
with  him.  If  he  incurs  misfortune,  they  join  and 
help  him  out,  instead  of  hanging  round  his  neck  like 
millstones  to  sink  him  into  deeper  waters.  The  habits 
which  prevail  in  such  a  family,  the  domestic  industry, 
the  love  of  home,  the  order  and  simplicity  cherished, 
promote  all  true  excellences  of  character." 

RESPECT  FOR   THE  AGED, 

It  is  the  dictate  of  nature  to  respect  antiquity  in 
anything.  We  venerate  a  column  which  has  with- 
stood the  ravages  of  time.  We  contemplate  with 
reverence  the  ivy-crowned  castle  through  which  the 
winds  of  centuries  made  melancholy  music.  We 
gather  with  care  the  fragments  of  the  early  history  of 
nations  which,  however  moldering  or  (Disjointed, 
have  escaped  the  shipwreck  of  time.  There  are 
some  who  spare  no  expense  in  collecting  coins  and 
relics  which  rust  has  penetrated,  or  change  of  customs 
rendered  valueless,  save  as  they  have  within  them  the 
voice  of  other  years.  Why,  then,  should  we  regard 
with  indifference  the  living  remnants  of  a  former 
age,  through  whose  experience  we  might  both  be 
enriched  and  made  better  ? 

The  sympathy  of  a  kind  heart  prompts  respect  to 
the  aged.  Their  early  and  dear  friends  have  de- 
parted. They  stand  alone,  with  heads  whitened,  and 
vigor  diminished.  They  have  escaped  the  deluge 
that  overwhelmed  their  cotemporaries.  But  they 
have  not  passed  unscathed  through  the  water-floods 

35 


560 


RESPECT    FOR    THE    AGED. 


of  time.  Tender  ar  d  marked  attentions  are  due  to 
these  weary  voyagers.  They  ought  not  to  be  left  as 
the  denizens  of  some  solitary  isle,  which  love  never 
visits,  and  which  the  gay  vessels,  newly  launched  on 
the  sea  of  life,  pass  by  with  flaunting  streamers,  and 
r?gard  not.  The  tribute  of  reverence  which  is  their 
due,  adds  as  much  to  the  honor  of  him  who  pays,  as 
to  the  happiness  of  those  who  receive  it. 

Respect  for  age  is  best  impressed  on  children  by 
the  example  of  their  parents.  From  a  principle  of 
imitation,  the  child  frames  his  manners  on  the  model 
which  his  parents  sanction.  Their  mode  of  treatment 
to  their  own  parents  is  perpetuated  in  him.  The 
neglect  or  reverence  which  their  daily  conduct  ex- 
hibits, becomes  incorporated  with  his  own  habits  and 
character  ;  baleful  dispositions  reproduce  themselves  ; 
so  that  what  is  counted  as  a  judgment,  may  be  but 
the  spontaneous  action  of  a  bitter  root  bearing  its 
own  fr  jit. 

Says  a  fine  writer :  "  I  was  acquainted  with  the 
father  and  mother  of  a  large  family,  who,  on  the  en- 
trance of  their  own  aged  parents,  rose  and  received 
them  with  every  mark  of  respect.  Their  children, 
beholding  continually  this  deference  shown  to  the 
aged,  made  it  a  part  of  their  own  conduct.  Before 
they  were  capable  of  comprehending  the  reason  on 
which  it  was  founded,  they  copied  it  from  the  ever- 
open  page  of  parental  example.  The  beautiful  habit 
grew  with  their  life,  and  was  rewarded  by  the  appro- 
bation of  all  who  witnessed  it.  Especially  was  it 
cheering  to  the  hearts  of  those  who  received  it,  and 
who  found  the  chill  and  solitude  of  the  vale  of  years 
alleviated  by  the  tender  love  that  walked  by  their  side. 


RESPECT    FOR    THE    AGED.  561 

"  I  saw  the  same  children  when  their  own  parents  be- 
came old.  This  hallowed  principle,  early  incorporated 
with  their  character,  bore  a  rich  harvest  for  those 
who  had  sown  the  seed.  The  honor  which,  from  in- 
fancy, they  had  shown  to  the  hoary  head,  mingling 
with  the  fervor  of  filial  affection,  produced  a  delight- 
ful compensation  in  the  influence  it  had  exerted  upon 
their  own  characters,  as  well  as  in  the  respect  shown 
to  them  by  others." 

The  universal  opinion  of  those  who  scrutinize  the 
state  of  society  in  this  country,  is,  that  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  aged,  there  is  a  diminution  of  respect. 
Even  the  authority  of  parents  and  teachers  seems  to 
be  borne  with  uneasiness,  and  to  be  early  shaken  off. 
Some  have  supposed  this  change  naturally  arises 
from  the  spirit  and  institutions  of  a  republic. 
Equality  of  rank  destroys  many  of  the  barriers  of  ad- 
ventitious distinction.  But  the  hoary  head,  when 
crowned  with  goodness  and  piety,  is  an  order  of 
nobility,  and  marks  a  stage  of  ripened  excellence, 
and  should  always  be  treated  accordingly. 

The  Spartans,  proudly  adverse  to  every  form  of 
delicacy  and  refinement,  paid  marked  deference  to 
age,  especially  when  combined  with  wisdom.  A  fine 
tribute  to  their  observance  of  this  virtue  was  ren- 
dered them  by  the  old  man  who,  having  been  refused 
a  seat  in  a  crowded  assembly  at  Athens,  saw  the 
rougher  Laccedemonians  rise  in  an  equally  dense 
throng,  and  reverently  make  room  for  him,  and  said : 
"  The  Athenians  know  what  is  right,  but  the  Spartans 
practice  it."  The  wandering  sons  of  the  American 
forests,  in  their  better  days,  showed  the  deepest 
respect  to  years.  Beneath  each  lowly  roof,  at  every 


562  RESPECT    FOR   THE    AGED. 

council-fire,  the  young  listened  reverently  to  the 
voice  of  the  aged.  In  their  most  important  exi- 
gencies, the  boldest  warriors,  the  haughtiest  chieftains 
consulted  the  hoary-headed  men,  and  waited  for  their 
words. 

Begin,  then,  with  the  little  ones.  Require  them  to 
rise  and  offer  a  seat  when  an  old  person  enters  the 
room,  never  to  interrupt  them  when  speaking,  but  to 
solicit  their  advice,  and  reverence  their  opinions. 
You  will  say  that  these  are  simple  rules,  but  the  lofty 
tree  ever  springs  from  the  diminutive  germ.  The 
following  picture  of  age,  thus  tenderly  ministered 
unto  by  children,  was  drawn  I  y  the  pen  of  Ralph 
Hoyt : 

"  By  the  wayside,  on  a  mossy  stone, 

Sat  a  hoary  pilgrim,  sadlv  musing; 
Oft  I  marked  him  sitting  there  alone, 

All  the  landscape  like  a  page  perusing — 
Poor,  unknown! 

"Buckled  knee  and  shoe,  and  broad-brimmed  hat, 

Coat  as  ancient  as  the  form  'twas  folding, 
Silver  buttons,  queue,  and  crimped  cravat, 
Oaken  staff  his  feeble  hand  upholding, 
There  he  sat! 

"  Seemed  it  piteous  he  should  sit  there, 

No  one  sympathizing,  no  one  heeding, 
None  to  love  him  for  his  thin  gray  hair 
And  the  furrows,  all  so  mutely  pleading 
Age  and  care. 

"  It  was  summer,  and  we  went  to  school, 

Dapper  country  lads  and  little  maidens, 
When  the  stranger  seemed  to  mark  our  play, 
Some  of  us  were  joyous,  and  some  sad-hearted ; 


RESPECT    FOR    THE    AGED.  563 

But  one  sweet  spirit  broke  the  silent  spell, 
And  besought  him  all  his  griefs  to  tell 
(I  was  then  thirteen,  and  she  eleven) — 
Isabel! 

« 'Angel,'  said  he,  sadly, '  I  am  old ; 

Earthly  hope  no  longer  hath  a  morrow; 
Yet  why  I  sit  here  thou  shalt  be  told. 
I  have  tottered  here  to  look  once  more 

On  the  pleasant  scenes  where  I  disported 
In  the  careless,  happy  days  of  yore, 

Ere  the  garden  of  my  heart  was  blighted 
To  the  core! 

"'In  the  cottage  yonder,  I  was  born; 

Long  my  happy  home  that  humble  dwelling; 
There  were  fields  of  clover,  wheat,  and  corn; 
There  the  spring  with  limpid  water  flowing — 
Now,  forlorn ! 

" '  There's  the  orchard  where  we  used  to  climb, 
When  my  mates  and  I  were  boys  together, 
Thinking  nothing  of  the  flight  of  time, 

Fearing  naught  but  work  and  rainy  weather. 
There's  the  mill  that  ground  our  yellow  grain; 

Pond  and  river,  still  serenely  flowing; 
Cot,  there  nestling  in  the  shaded  lane, 

Where  the  lily  of  my  heart  was  blowing — 
Mary  Jane! 

"  '  There's  the  gate  on  which  I  used  to  swing, 

Brook,  and  bridge,  and  barn,  and  old  red  stable: 
But  alas!  no  more  the  morn  shall  bring 

That  dear  group  around  my  father's  table- 
All  have  taken  wing! 

"'  Yon  white  spire,  a  pencil  on  the  sky, 

Tracing  silently  life's  changeful  story, 
So  familiar  to  my  dim  old  eye, 


564  RESPECT  FOR  THE  AGED. 

Points  me  to  seven  that  are  now  in  glory, 
There  on  high! 

" '  Oft  the  aisle  of  that  old  church  we  trod, 

Guided  thither  by  an  angel  mother; 
Now  she  sleeps  beneath  its  sacred  sod, 
Sire  and  sisters,  and  my  little  brother — 
Gone  to  God! 

"  «  There  my  Mary  blest  me  with  her  hand, 

When  our  souls  drank  in  the  nuptial  blessing, 
Ere  she  hastened  to  the  spirit-land, 

With  yon  green  turf  her  prostrate  form  now  pressing, 
Leaving  a  broken  band ! 

" '  Isabel,'  said  he,  sadly,  '  I  am  old, 
And  why  I  sit  here  thou  hast  now  been  told; 

I  have  come  to  see  her  grave  once  more, 
And  the  happy  spot  where  we  both  delighted, 

And  where  we  worshiped  in  the  days  of  yore, 
Ere  the  garden  of  my  heart  was  blighted 
To  the  core!'" 

Reader,  it  will  indeed  be  a  sad  day  for  you  and 
me,  if,  when  we  totter  thus  along  life's  path,  we  have 
no  children  to  love  and  cherish  us,  none  to  gather 
around  and  listen  to  our  story,  so  full  of  reminiscence, 
pathos,  and  tenderness  !  It  were  well,  then,  for  us,  as 
parents,  to  now  lay  the  foundation  for  such  a  treat- 
ment as  will  cheer  and  soothe  us  in  the  days  when 
life  turns  to  the  "sere  and  yellow  leaf,"  and  we  shall 
be,  as  Shakespere  says,  "in  second  childhood  and 
mere  oblivion,  sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste,  sans 
everything." 


L  £  A.fr-'N  I  N'fc    TO    SEW. 


-ATIU 


'70N  OF  GIRLS. 


city 

to  her  heart, 


•  dus- 


the 

mething  for  its  comfort. 

<tly  and  cheer- 

They 

:nses  of 

ortf 


566 


ASSIST    YOUR    PARENTS. 


Inspire  her  with  a  desire  to  make  all  around  her  com- 
fortable and  happy.  Instruct  her  in  the  rudiments 
of  that  science  whose  results  are  so  beautiful^  Teach 
her  that  not  selfish  gratification,  but  the  good  of  a 
household,  the  improvement  of  even  the  humblest 
dependent,  is  the  business  of  her  life.  When  she 
questions  you,  repay  her  curiosity  with  clear  and 
loving  explanations.  When  you  walk  out  to  call  on 
your  friends,  sometimes  take  her  with  you.  Es- 
pecially if  you  visit  the  aged  or  go  on  errands  of 
mercy  to  the  sick  and  poor,  let  her  be  your  com- 
panion. Allow  her  to  sit  by  the  side  of  the  sufferer 
and  learn  those  nursing  services  which  afford  relief 
to  pain.  Associate  her  with  you.  Make  her  your 
friend.  Purify,  and  perfect  your  own  example  for 
her  sake." 

No  girl  should  consider  herself  properly  educated 
until  she  has  mastered  some  employment  or  accom- 
plishment by  which  she  can  gain  a  living,  should  she 
be  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  supporting  herself. 
And  who  can  tell  how  soon  this  necessity  may 
present  itself  before  her?  How  many  families  by 
unexpected  reverses  have  been  lately  reduced  from 
affluence  to  poverty.  And  how  pitiful  and  con- 
temptible under  such  circumstances  to  see  strong 
women  helpless,  desponding,  and  embarrassing  those 
whom  it  is  their  duty  to  cheer  and  aid. 


ASS7S T  TOUR  PARENTS. 


"  I  have  lost  my  whole  fortune,"  said  a  merchant, 
as  he  returned  one  evening  to  his  home.  "  We  can 
no  longer  ride  in  our  carriage  ;  we  must  leave  this 


ASSIST    YOUR    PARENTS.  567 

large  house.  The  children  can  no  longer  go  to  ex- 
pensive schools.  What  we  are  to  do  for  a  living,  I 
know  not.  Yesterday,  I  was  a  rich  man.  To-day, 
there  is  nothing  left  that  I  can  call  my  own." 

"  Dear  husband,"  said  the  good  wife,  ''we  are  still 
rich  in  each  other,  and  in  our  children.  Money  may 
pass  away,  but  God  has  given  us  a  better  treasure  in 
these  active  hands,  and  loving  hearts."  "  Dear 
father,"  said  the  children,  "  do  not  look  so  sober. 
We  will  help  you  get  a  living."  "  What  can  you  do, 
poor  things?"  said  he.  "You  shall  see,  you  shall 
see/'  answered  several  cheerful  voices.  "  It  is  a  pity 
if  we  have  been  to  school  for  nothing.  How  can  the 
father  of  eight  healthy  children  be  poor  ?  We  will 
work,  and  make  you  rich  again."  "  I  shall  help," 
said  the  youngest  girl,  hardly  four  years  old.  "I  will 
not  have  any  new  frock  bought,  and  I  shall  sell  my 
great  wax  doll."  The  heart  of  the  husband  and 
father,  which  had  sunk  in  his  bosom  like  a  stone,  was 
lifted  up.  The  sweet  enthusiasm  of  the  scene  cheered 
him,  and  his  nightly  prayer  was  like  a  song  of  praise. 

He  left  his  stately  house,  and  the  servants  were 
dismissed.  Pictures,  and  plate,  and  rich  carpets,  and 
stylish  furniture  were  all  sold,  and  she  who  had  been 
the  mistress  of  the  mansion,  shed  no  tear.  "  Pay 
every  debt,"  said  she,  "  and  let  no  one  surfer  through 
us,  and  we  may  yet  be  happy."  The  father  took  a 
neat  cottage  and  a  small  piece  of  ground  a  few  miles 
from  a  city.  With  the  aid  of  his  sons,  he  cultivated 
vegetables  for  the  city  market.  The  wife,  who  had 
been  nurtured  in  wealth,  became  economical  in  her 
management  of  the  household,  and  the  daughters 
soon  acquired  efficiency  under  her  training.  The 


568  ASSIST    YOUR    PARENTS. 

eldest  ones  assisted  her  in  the  work  of  the  home,  and 
at  the  same  time  instructed  the  younger  children. 
Besides,  they  executed  various  works  which  readily 
brought  a  price  in  the  market.  They  embroidered 
with  taste,  they  cultivated  flowers  and  sent  them  to 
market  with  the  vegetables,  they  plaited  straw,  they 
painted  maps,  they  executed  plain  needlework. 
Every  one  had  a  post,  and  was  at  it,  busy  and 
cheerful.  The  cottage  was  like  a  beehive. 

"  I  never  enjoyed  such  health  before,"  said  the 
father.  "And  I  was  never  as  happy  before,"  said  the 
mother.  "  We  never  knew  how  many  things  we 
could  do,  when  we  lived  in  the  great  house,"  said  the 
children,  "  and  we  love  each  other  a  great  deal  better 
here.  You  call  us  your  little  bees,  and  I  think  we 
make  such  honey  as  the  heart  feeds  on." 

Economy,  as  well  as  industry,  was  strictly  ob- 
served. Nothing  was  wasted.  Nothing  unnecessary 
was  purchased.  After  a  while,  the  eldest  daughter 
became  assistant  teacher  in  a  distinguished  female 
seminary,  and  the  second  took  her  place  as  in- 
structress in  the  family.  The  little  dwelling,  which 
had  always  been  kept  neat,  they  were  soon  able  to 
beautify.  Its  construction  was  improved,  and  vines 
and  flowering-trees  were  planted  around  it.  The 
merchant  was  happier  under  its  woodbine-covered 
porch  in  a  summer's  evening,  than  he  had  been  in  his 
showy  drawing-room. 

"We  are  now  thriving  and  prosperous,"  said  he; 
"  shall  we  return  to  the  city  ?  "  "Ah  !  no,  no  !  "  was 
the  unanimous  reply.  "  Let  us  remain,"  said  the 
wife,  "where  we  have  found  health  and  contentment." 
"  Father,"  said  the  youngest,  "  all  the  children  hope 


TREATMENT  OF  SERVANTS.  569 

you  are  not  going  to  be  rich  again.  For  then,"  she 
added,  "we  little  ones  were  shut  up  in  the  nursery, 
and  did  not  see  much  of  you  or  mother.  Now  we  all 
live  together,  and  sister,  who  loves  us,  teaches  us, 
and  we  learn  to  be  industrious  and  useful.  We  were 
none  of  us  as  happy  when  we  were  rich  and  did  not 
work.  So,  father,  please  not  be  a  rich  man  any 
more." 

Ah.!  how  many  glad  paeans  of  thanksgiving  would 
have  gone  up  to  heaven  from  crushed  and  broken 
hearts,  during  the  many  years  of  financial  depression 
in  the  past,  if  all  who  had  lost  property  and  been 
compelled  to  go  into  bankruptcy,  had  been  blessed 
with  families  like  this  one,  to  help  put  them  on  their 
feet  again  !  Every  woman  should  have  a  practical 
knowledge  of  housework,  whether  rich  or  poor,  for  if 
not  overtaken  by  reverses  of  fortune,  disorder  in  the 
kitchen  department  reacts  directly  upon  the  parlor, 
and  discomfort  in  the  family  deprives  the  head  of  it 
of  all  power  of  pleasant  or  profitable  mental  applica- 
tion. It  is  especially  necessary  to  be  sufficiently 
acquainted  with  the  duties  which  we  demand  of 
others,  to  know  whether  they  are  properly  discharged, 
and  when  the  wearied  laborer  requires  repose. 
Novices  in  housekeeping  often  err  in  these  matters. 
They  are  deceived  by  specious  appearances,  without 
knowing  how  their  domestics  spend  their  time,  or 
they  impose  toil  at  the  proper  seasons  of  rest. 

TREATMENT  OF  SERVANTS. 

11 1  have  an  excellent  cook,"  says  a  young  house- 
keeper, "  but  I  think  I  shall  have  to  dismiss  her,  she 


57O  TREATMENT  OF  SERVANTS. 

is  so  cross.  I  only  wanted  her  to  make  me  some 
blancmange  and  custards  yesterday,  and  just  because 
her  dinner  dishes  were  out  of  the  way,  and  her 
kitchen  put  up  nice  for  the  afternoon,  she  did  nothing 
but  murmur  that  I  had  not  given  her  these  orders 
before."  When  domestics  are  employed,  the  dictates 
of  reason  and  of  common  humanity  require  that 
they  be  treated  as  one  would  wish  to  be  treated  if  in 
their  place.  When  they  give  satisfaction,  they  should 
receive  their  meed  of  praise,  and  this  will  encourage 
them  to  continue  in  a  right  course. 

We  should  not  forget  that  they  have  feelings,  like 
ourselves,  and  that  kind,  encouraging  words,  will  al- 
ways accomplish  the  desired  end  much  better  than 
harsh  and  ungrateful  expressions. 

It  was  not  the  least  among  the  virtues  of  the  excel- 

o 

lent  Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings,  that  she  considered 
her  servants  as  her  friends,  and  strove  to  elevate 
their  characters.  "  She  presided  over  her  domestics," 
said  her  biographer,  "  with  the  disposition  of  a 
parent.  She  not  only  employed  the  skill  of  such 
artificers  as  were  engaged  about  her  house,  to  consult 
the  comfort  and  convenience  of  her  servants,  that 
they  might  suffer  no  unnecessary  hardship,  but  also 
provided  for  the  improvement  of  their  minds,  the 
decency  of  their  behavior,  and  the  propriety  of  their 
manners."  If  a  lady  so  accomplished  as  to  have  been 
designated  in  the  writings  of  Sir  Richard  Steele  as 
the  "  divine  Aspasia,"  the  possessor  of  immense 
wealth,  and  a  member  of  the  nobility  of  a  royal 
realm,  thus  devoted  time  and  tenderness  to  her 
servants,  why  should  those  who,  under  a  republican 
government,  profess  equality,  fear  to  demean  them- 


DOMESTIC    HABITS.  57! 

selves  by  similar  condescension,  if  indeed  it  ought  to 
be  called  such  ? 

J 

DOMESTIC    HABITS. 

To  every  mother  we  would  say,  let  young  women 
get  their  hands  in.  Domestic  habits  will  be  very  use- 
ful under  all  circumstances,  and  will  enable  a  wife  to 
know  how  a  house  ought  to  be  managed,  and  to  see 
at  a  glance,  in  case  she  may  not  herself  be  required 
to  work,  whether  the  servants  are  discharging  their 
duties  in  a  proper  manner.  Rough  work  is  not 
necessarily  the  companion  of  rude  manners,  or  a  vul- 
gar mind.  A  woman  is  not  suitable  for  the  wife  of  a 
working  man  or  a  tradesman  who  cannot  "  look  well 
to  the  ways  of  her  household,"  or  who  is  not  expert 
in  cutting  out  a  shirt,  making  a  pudding,  or  cooking 
a  meal ;  and  no  woman  is  properly  trained  for  a  wife, 
whose  education  begins  and  ends  without  fitting  her 
for  such  duties. 

"  Good  looks  are  no  substitute  for  the  lack  of  good 
qualities.  Unless  a  woman  is  acquainted  to  a  certain 
extent  with  the  sciences  of  6a&e-o\ogy,  &?z7-ology, 
ma&e-ology,  sfitcA*ology,  and  mend-ology,  it  will  soon 
be  evident  that  she  is  out  of  her  element.  What 
could  be  expected  but  misery  from  the  following, 
selected  as  a  sample  from  numerous  cases  :  Some 
few  days  after  a  girl  had  been  married,  her  husband 
expressed  a  wish  to  have  a  boiled  rabbit  for  dinner ; 
so  he  called  at  the  shop  on  his  road  from  breakfast 
to  the  factory,  and  ordered  one  to  be  sent.  When 
he  arrived  home  at  the  usual  time  for  dinner,  he  was 
surprised  to  find  no  signs  of  its  being  ready.  Judge 


572  DOMESTIC    HABITS. 

of  his  astonishment  upon  going  into  the  kitchen,  to 
hear  his  wife  say,  '  Why,  John,  I've  never  had  such  a 
job  in  all  my  life ;  if  I  haven't  been  all  the  morning 
plucking  the  hair  off  this  rabbit,  and  haven't  done  it 
yet.  I  feel  ready  to  drop.' ' 

Never  was  there  a  greater  blunder  than  to  substi- 
tute accomplishments  for  domestic  habits.  True 
education  should  prepare  a  young  woman  for  her  pe- 
culiar duties  as  the  companion  of  man,  and  the  nurs- 
ing mother  of  the  rising  generation  ;  she  would  then 
be  a  real  treasure,  instead  of  being,  as  is  too  often 
the  case,  a  burden  and  a  snare.  We  wish  there  was 
a  greater  disposition  on  the  part  of  young  women  to 
find  employment  in  a  well-regulated  family,  rather 
than  in  the  factory  or  in  the  shop.  Domestic  service 
has  many  advantages  over  such  situations.  It  is  all 
the  while  fitting  a  girl  for  her  ultimate  sphere  in  life  ; 
and  young  men  would  do  well  to  remember  that  a 
neat,  well-behaved  domestic  servant  is  more  likely  to 
make  a  happy  wife,  and  a  happy  home,  than  she  who 
"likes  her  liberty,"  and  talks  about  the  drudgery  of 
household  duties. 

Mrs.  Stowe,  speaking  on  this  subject,  gives  a  capi- 
tal illustration  of  how  she  was  answered,  when  trying 
to  induce  a  young  woman,  a  fisherman's  daughter,  to 
take  some  lessons  in  washing  and  ironing :  "  My 
child,"  she  said,  "  you  will  need  to  understand  all 
kinds  of  housework,  if  you  are  going  to  be  married." 
She  tossed  her  little  head  and  said:  "  Indeed  she 
wasn't  going  to  trouble  herself  about  that."  "  But 
who  will  do  up  your  husband's  shirts?"  "Oh,  he 
must  put  them  out.  I'm  not  going  to  be  married  to 
make  a  slave  of  myself." 


A    DUTIFUL    DAUGHTER.  573 

In  contrast  with  this  pert  young  miss,  look  at  the 
following  picture  of 

A    DUTIFUL  DAUGHTER. 

Ellen's  mother  died  when  she  was  scarcely  thirteen 
years  old.  Her  only  brother  died  the  winter  before. 
Her  two  sisters  were  married,  and  had  removed  to  so 
great  a  distance,  that  she  seldom  heard  from  them. 
She  was  quite  alone  with  her  father.  When  her 
mother  first  died,  she  felt  as  if  she  never  could  be 
happy  again.  But  when  she  saw  her  father  looking 
so  sad,  she  thought  it  was  her  duty  to  try  and  com- 
fort him  ;  and  when  he  came  in  tired  from  his  work, 
she  would  set  a  chair  for  him,  and  get  him  whatever 
he  wanted,  and  speak  pleasantly  to  him,  as  her 
mother  used  to  do. 

She  remembered  how  her  mother  made  bread,  and 
was  ambitious  to  make  it  in  the  same  way.  She  took 
great  pains  to  have  it  light,  and  to  bake  it  well,  and 
when  she  placed  on  the  table  the  first  loaf  that  she 
ever  made,  she  could  not  help  weeping  for  joy  to 
hear  her  father  say  "  Child,  this  tastes  like  your 
mother's  bread." 

When  the  winter  evenings  came  she  swept  the 
hearth  neatly,  and  placed  the  light  on  the  little  stand, 
and  sat  down  by  his  side  with  her  needle.  Her 
mother  had  thoroughly  instructed  her  in  plain  sewing, 
and  while  she  mended  or  made  garments,  her  father 
read  aloud  to  her.  He  began  to  be  comforted  by 
the  goodness  of  his  daughter,  and  she  perceived  that 
the  tones  of  his  voice  grew  more  cheerful  in  the  even- 
ing prayer,  and  when  he  bade  her  good-night. 


574  A    DUTIFUL    DAUGHTER. 

Her  father  worked  hard  everyday.  She  had  often 
heard  her  mother  say  that  they  were  poor,  and  must 
economize.  So  as  she  grew  older,  she  studied  how 
to  save  expense.  Her  mother  had  been  accustomed 
to  sell  what  butter  they  could  spare  to  a  lady  in  the 
neighborhood.  Ellen  continued  to  do  so,  and  the 
lady  expressed  herself  much  surprised  that  so  young 
a  girl  should  make  such  fine  butter,  and  send  it  in 
such  neat  order.  If  she  ever  felt  fatigued  with  her 
labors,  she  would  recollect  her  mother's  example,  and 
always  be  pleasant  and  cheerful  when  her  father  came 
home. 

When  Ellen  grew  to  be  a  young  woman,  she  was 
a  favorite  with  all.  The  old  and  thoughtful  respected 
her  for  her  obedience  and  affection  to  her  old  parent, 
who  no  longer  felt  lonely,  so  comfortable  and  cheer- 
ful had  she  made  his  home.  She  was  also  quite 
admired,  for  she  had  a  good  form,  a  healthful  com- 
plexion, and  the  open  smile  of  one  who  is  in  the 
habit  of  doing  right,  and  feels  happy  at  heart,  which 
is  the  truest  beauty. 

She  was  addressed  by  a  deserving  young  man  who 
had  known  her  merits  from  childhood.  To  this  pro- 
posal she  replied,  "  My  father  is  growing  infirm,  and 
is  able  to  work  but  little.  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  take 
care  of  him  as  long  as  he  lives.  It  might  be  a  bur- 
den to  others.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  me." 

"  Ellen,  it  will  be  no  burden  to  me.  Let  me  help 
you  in  supporting  him.  Most  gladly  will  I  work  for 
all."  She  saw  that  he  was  sincere,  and  they  were 
married.  Her  husband  had  a  small  house  and  a 
piece  of  ground  on  which  he  labored.  She  kept 
everything  neat  and  in  order,  and  was  always  pleasant 


A    DUTIFUL    DAUGHTER.  575 

and  cheerful.  "  I  have  now  two  motives,"  she  said, 
"  to  be  as  good  as  I  can, — a  husband  and  father." 

Ellen's  little  children  loved  their  grandfather.  She 
taught  them  by  her  own  example  how  to  treat  him 
with  respect.  The  warmest  corner  was  always  for 
him.  When  they  saw  her  listening  to  all  he  said 
with  reverence,  they  never  thought  of  interrupting 
him,  or  disregarding  his  remarks.  As  they  grew 
older,  they  read  the  Bible  to  him  daily,  for  his  eye- 
sight failed.  His  explanations  were  a  treasure  to 
them.  Especially  was  he  pleased  when  any  of  them 
learned  to  repeat  by  heart,  some  of  the  Psalms  of 
David.  "  For  these,"  he  said,  "  have  been  my  songs 
in  the  house  of  my  pilgrimage."  Teachers  and  others 
who  saw  the  children  of  Ellen,  observed  that  they 
had  better  manners  than  others  of  the  same  age. 
They  acquired  them  in  a  great  measure  from  their 
constant  propriety  of  deportment  to  their  venerable 
grandfather. 

In  the  father's  last  sickness,  when  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  raise  his  head  from  the  pillow,  Ellen  raised 
him  up  and  sat  behind  him,  wrapped  her  arms  ten- 
derly around  him,  and  as  he  leaned  his  head  upon 
her  shoulder  for  the  last  time,  he  gratefully  murmured, 
"  The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee  ;  the  Lord  make 
his  face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace." 

As  it  is  the  inevitable  fortune  of  most  girls  to  get 
married,  sooner  or  later,  we  will  close  this  chapter, 
especially  devoted  to  them,  by  a  few  hints  upon  the 
choice  of  a  proper  husband.  Before  you  link  your 
fortune  with  any  young  man,  know  something  about 
his  position,  connections,  pursuits,  habits,  and  associ- 
ates. About  the  most  fatal  blunder  you  can  commit 

37 


576  CHOOSING   A    HUSBAND. 

is  to  contract  a  bad  marriage,  and  yet  how  commonly 
is  it  done  !  Before  any  young  man  has  a  chance  of 
making  known  his  intentions,  find  out  whether  he  is 
worth  having.  You  can  never  live  happily  with  a 
man  whose  habits  you  despise.  Seek,  therefore,  one 
in  whom  dwelleth  good  qualities. 

CHOOSING  A   HUSBAND. 

Beware  of  transient  young  men.  Recollect  that 
one  good  farmer's  boy  or  industrious  mechanic  is 
worth  all  the  floating  fops  in  the  world.  The  allure- 
ments of  a  dandy  Jack,  with  a  gold  chain  round  his 
neck,  a  walking-stick  in  his  paw,  and  a  threepenny 
cigar  in  his  mouth,  some  honest  tailor's  coat  on  his 
back,  and  a  brainless,  though  fancy  skull,  never  can 
make  up  the  loss  of  a  good  father's  home,  and  a  good 
mother's  counsel,  and  the  society  of  brothers  and 
sisters  ;  their  affections  last,  while  that  of  a  young 
man  is  lost  in  the  wane  of  the  honeymoon. 

Don't  marry  a  spendthrift,  or  a  lazy,  shiftless  young 
man.  And,  as  a  good  preservative  from  mistake,  it 
might  be  well  to  select  one  who  has  a  trade,  and  one 
who  is  also  a  good  workman  at  his  trade.  Remem- 
ber, he  will  have  to  keep  you,  as  well  as  himself,  in 
food,  clothes,  home,  etc.;  and  to  do  this  properly,  he 
must  be  able  to  earn  enough  to  secure  the  means  of 
living  comfortably.  Whatever  poets  may  say  or  sing 
of  the  sweets  of  poverty,  it  is  a  painful  thing  to  be 
poor ;  and  no  man  is  justified  in  expecting  you  to 
consent  to  be  married,  until  he  gives  you  fair  evi- 
dence that  he  has  counted  the  cost  of  keeping  you, 
and  also  of  bringing  up  a  family. 


CHOOSING    A    HUSBAND.  577 

Listen  to  no  word  of  love  from  a  man  who  swears, 
gambles,  tipples,  or  associates  with  bad  companions. 
Don't  run  the  risk  of  trying  to  reform  a  man  after 
marriage  ;  in  all  probability  you  will  be  disappointed 
if  you  do.  Have  nothing  to  do  with  a  shuffler,  or  a 
man  who  does  not  say  what  he  means.  All  kinds  of 
deceit  are  wrong,  and  a  man  who  manifests  a  truck- 
ling, dodging  spirit,  is  not  the  man  to  feel  at  home 
with  a  pure-minded  woman.  If  an  honest  man  is  the 
noblest  work  of  God,  then  avoid  any  man  who  cannot 
look  you  fairly  in  the  face,  and  speak  out  boldly  the 
thoughts  of  his  heart  and  mind. 

If  he  be  of  an  excitable  nature,  you  will  do  well  to 
bear  in  mind  the  old  saying,  that  "  when  Greek 
meets  Greek,  then  comes  the  tug  of  war."  "  Like" 
does  not  "  cure  like  "  in  tempers,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
contrasts  frequently  work  better  together.  Let  him 
be  a  man  of  sense,  and  he  will  soon  learn  to  accom- 
modate himself  to  your  peculiarities,  just  as  you  will 
find  it  needful  to  drop  into  some  of  his  ways.  A  man 
without  some  spirit  in  him,  is  not  good  for  much  ; 
but  a  man  who  lets  his  spirit  control  him,  instead  of 
controlling  his  spirit,  will  be  likely  to  give  you  some 
trouble. 

Lastly,  in  the  choice  of  a  husband,  seek  one  whom 
you  can  most  heartily  and  devotedly  love.  Remem- 
ber that  a  true  union  in  life  is,  and  ever  must  be,  a 
union  of  hearts.  Marriage,  rightly  understood,  is  the 
perfected  life  of  love  between  two  kindred  or  suitably 
adapted  natures.  It  never  should  be  a  mere  merce- 
nary bargain  between  property  owners,  or  simply  a 
society  affair  between  two  exquisite  fools.  Always 
marry  the  man  whom  you  feel  and  believe  will  make 


5/8  CHOOSING    A    HUSBAND. 

you  the  most  happy.     Otherwise  you  may  be  made 
unhappy,  if  not  miserable. 

"  For  forced  wedlock  is  but  a  hell, 
An  age  of  discord  and  continual  strife; 
Whereas  the  contrary  bririgeth  forth  joy, 
And  is  a  pattern  of  celestial  peace." 

Again,  it  is  well  to  know  that 

"  Wedded  love  is  founded  on  esteem, 
Which  the  real  merits  of  the  mind  engage; 
For  these  are  charms  which  never  can  decay." 

"  Think  not,  a  husband  gained,  that  is  done; 
The  prize  of  happiness  must  yet  be  won; 
For  oft  the  careless  find  it  to  their  cost, 
That  lover  in  a  husband  may  be  lost." 


WORDS    TO    YOUNG    MEN.  579 


WORDS  TO   YOUNG  MEN. 


"  The  age  of  youth  is  the  strong  reign  of 
Passion,  when  vice  does  ride  in  triumph 
Upon  the  wheels  of  vehement  desire." 

— NEVILLE. 


Kfl^J 

the  first  part  of  this  volume,  we  addressed 
many  words  to  young  men  concerning  suc- 
cess in  business  life,  and  it  now  remains  to 
point  out  to  them  the  elements  of  happiness. 
The  three  chief  temptations  presenting 
themselves  before  young  men,  and  which,  if 
yielded  to,  will  surely  destroy  every  vestige  of  hap- 
piness, are  a  love  of  ease  and  idleness,  the  various 
forms  and  kinds  of  dishonesty,  and  licentiousness. 
We  shall  take  these  up  in  the  order  named. 

There  are  many  kinds  of  idle  young  men.  One 
can  be  seen  almost  any  day  haunting  sunny  benches 
or  breezy  piazzas.  The  real  business  of  this  fellow  is 
to  see ;  his  desire,  to  be  seen  ;  and  no  one  fails  to  see 
him, — so  gaudily  dressed,  his  hat  sitting  aslant  upon 
a  wilderness  of  hair  like  a  bird  half  startled  from  its 
nest,  and  every  thread  arranged  to  provoke  attention. 
He  is  a  man  of  honor ;  not  that  he  keeps  his  word, 
or  shrinks  from  meanness.  He  defrauds  his  laun- 
dress, his  tailor,  and  his  landlord.  He  drinks  and 
smokes  at  other  men's  expense.  He  gambles,  and 


580  WORDS   TO    YOUNG    MEN. 

swears,  and  fights, — when  he  is  too  drunk  to  be 
afraid  ;  but  still  he  is  a  man  of  honor,  for  he  has 
whiskers,  looks  fierce,  and  wears  moustaches. 

Another  young  fellow  is  rich,  has  a  fine  form  and 
manly  beauty,  and  the  chief  end  of  his  life  is  to  dis- 
play them.  With  notable  diligence  he  ransacks  the 
shops  for  rare  and  curious  fabrics,  for  costly  seals, 
and  chains,  and  rings.  A  coat  poorly  fitted  is  the 
unpardonable  sin  of  his  creed.  He  meditates  upon 
cravats,  employs  a  profound  discrimination  in  select- 
ing a  hat  or  a  vest,  and  adopts  his  conclusions  upon 
the  tastefulness  of  a  button  or  a  collar,  with  the  de- 
liberation of  a  statesman.  Thus  caparisoned,  he 
saunters  in  fashionable  galleries,  or  flaunts  in  stylish 
equipage,  parades  the  streets  with  simpering  belles, 
and  delights  their  itching  ears  with  compliments  of 
flattery,  or  with  choicely-culled  scandal.  He  is  a 
reader  of  fiction,  if  it  be  not  too  substantial ;  a  writer 
of  cards  and  billet-doux,  and  is  especially  conspicuous 
in  albums.  He  is  as  corrupt  in  imagination  as  he  is 
refined  in  manners  ;  he  is  as  selfish  in  private  as  he 
is  generous  in  public  ;  and  even  what  he  gives  to  an- 
other, is  given  for  his  own  sake.  He  worships  where 
fashion  worships,  to-day  at  the  theater,  to-morrow  at 
the  church,  as  either  exhibits  the  whitest  hand  or  the 
most  polished  actor.  A  gaudy,  active  and  indolent 
butterfly,  he  flutters  without  industry  from  flower  to 
flower,  until  summer  closes,  and  frosts  sting  him,  and 
then  sinks  down  and  dies  unthought  of,  unremem- 
bered,  and  unspeakably  wretched. 

Another  young  man  has  no  ambition,  and  is  con- 
stantly idle  from  an  abiding  sense  of  despondency. 
He  moves  on  from  day  to  day,  as  if  under  a  spell 


WORDS    TO    YOUNG    MEN.  581 

from  which  nothing  can  arouse  him.  He  sits  down 
quietly  and  broods  over  his  ill-luck,  and  so  drags  out 
a  miserable  existence.  Still  another  lives  only  to  be 
on  hand  when  others  engage  in  sport.  He  joins 
every  fishing  party,  and  goes  out  with  all  the  shoot- 
ing clubs  for  practice.  He  attends  all  the  ball-plays 
and  races,  when  he  can  get  money  enough  to  get  in- 
side the  inclosure,  and  when  he  is  unable  to  do  this, 
he  will  try  to  look  over  the  fence  or  climb  some  ad- 
joining eminence  where  he  sits  perched  in  content 
like  the  stupid  owl  on  some  dead  limb  of  a  tree. 

Now,  as  against  all  these  different  forms  of  idle- 
ness, it  should  ever  be  remembered  by  young  men, 
that  while  buoyant  spirits  are  an  element  of  happi- 
ness, only  activity  produces  them  ;  for  they  fly  away 
from  sluggishness  as  fixed  air  from  open  wine.  Men's 
spirits  are  like  water  which  sparkles  when  it  runs,  buft 
stagnates  in  still  pools,  and  is  mantled  with  green, 
breeding  corruption  and  filth.  The  applause  of 
conscience,  the  self-respect  of  pride,  the  conscious- 
ness of  independence,  a  manly  joy  of  usefulness,  the 
consent  of  every  faculty  of  the  mind  to  one's  occu- 
pation and  their  gratification  in  it, — these  constitute 
a  happiness  superior  to  the  fever  flashes  of  vice  in  its 
brightest  moments.  After  an  experience  of  ages 
which  has  taught  nothing  different,  men  should  have 
learned  that  satisfaction  is  not  the  product  of  excess, 
or  of  indolence,  or  of  riches  ;  but  of  industry,  tem- 
perance, and  usefulness.  Every  town  or  village  has 
instances  which  ought  to  teach  young  men  that  he 
who  goes  aside  from  the  simplicity  of  nature,  and  the 
purity  of  virtue,  to  wallow  in  excesses,  carousals,  and 
surfeits,  at  length  misses  the  errand  of  his  life ;  and 


582  INDUSTRY. 

sinking  with  shattered  body  prematurely  to  a  dis- 
honored grave,  mourns  that  he  mistook  exhilaration 
for  satisfaction,  and  abandoned  the  very  home  of  hap- 
piness, when  he  forsook  the  labors  of  useful  industry. 

INDUSTRT. 

Every  industrious  poor  man  is  happier  than  an 
idle  rich  one,  for  labor  makes  the  one  more  manly, 
and  riches  unman  the  other.  The  slave  is  often 
happier  than  the  master  who  is  nearer  undone  by 
license,  than  his  vassal  by  toil.  Luxurious  couches, 
— plushy  carpets  from  oriental  looms, — pillows  of 
eider-down, — carriages  contrived  with  cushions  and 
springs  to  make  motion  imperceptible, — is  the  indo- 
lent master  of  these,  as  happy  as  the  slave  that  wove 
jhe  carpet,  the  Indian  who  hunted  the  northern  flock, 
or  the  servant  who  drives  the  pampered  steeds  ?  Let 
those  who  envy  the  gay  revels  of  city  idlers,  and  pine 
for  their  masquerades,  their  routs  and  their  operas, 
experience  for  a  week  the  lassitude  of  their  satiety, 
the  unarousable  torpor  of  their  life  when  not  under  a 
fiery  stimulus,  their  desperate  ennui  and  restless 
somnolency,  they  would  gladly  flee  from  their  haunts, 
as  from  a  land  of  cursed  enchantment. 

The  imagination  is  closely  related  to  the  passions, 
and  fires  them  with  its  heat.  The  day-dreams  of  in- 
dolent youth  glow  each  hour  with  warmer  colors  and 
bolder  adventures.  The  imagination  fashions  scenes 
of  enchantment  in  which  the  passions  revel ;  and  it 
leads  them  out,  in  shadows  at  first,  to  deeds  which 
soon  they  will  seek  in  earnest.  The  brilliant  colors 
of  far-away  clouds  are  but  the  colors  of  the  storm ; 


INDUSTRY.  583 

the  salacious  day-dreams  of  indolent  men,  rosy  at 
first,  and  distant,  deepen  every  day,  darker  and 
darker,  to  the  color  of  actual  evil.  Then  follows  the 
blight  of  every  habit.  Indolence  promises  with- 
out redeeming  the  pledge  ;  a  mist  of  forgetfulness 
rises  up  and  obscures  the  memory  of  vows  and  oaths. 
The  negligence  of  laziness  breeds  more  falsehoods 
than  the  cunning  of  the  sharper.  As  poverty  waits 
upon  the  steps  of  indolence,  so  upon  such  poverty, 
brood  equivocations,  subterfuges,  lying  denials. 
Falsehood  becomes  the  instrument  of  every  plan. 
Negligence  of  truth,  next  occasional  falsehood,  then 
wanton  mendacity, — these  three  strides  traverse  the 
whole  road  of  lies. 

Mere  pleasure, — sought  outside  of  usefulness,  and 
existing  by  itself, — is  fraught  with  poison.  When  its 
exhilaration  has  thoroughly  kindled  the  mind,  the 
passions  henceforth  refuse  simple  food  ;  they  crave 
and  require  an  excitement  higher  than  any  ordinary 
occupation  can  give.  After  reveling  all  night  in 
wine-dreams,  or  amid  the  fascinations  of  the  dance,  or 
the  deceptions  of  the  drama,  what  has  the  dull  store, 
or  the  dirty  shop,  which  can  continue  the  pulse  at  this 
fever-heat  of  delight  ?  The  face  of  pleasure  to  the 
youthful  imagination  is  the  face  of  an  angel,  a  para- 
dise of  smiles,  a  home  of  love ;  while  the  rugged 
face  of  Industry,  embrowned  by  toil,  is  dull  and  re- 
pulsive ;  but  at  the  end  it  is  not  so.  Those  are  harlot 
charms  which  Pleasure  wears.  At  last,  when  Industry 
shall  put  on  her  beautiful  garments,  and  rest  in  the 
palace  which  her  own  hands  have  built,  Pleasure, 
blotched  and  diseased  with  indulgence,  shall  lie  down 
and  die  upon  the  dung-hill. 


584  DISHONESTY. 

Surely,  despondency  is  a  grievous  thing,  and  a 
heavy  load  to  bear.  To  see  disaster  and  wreck  in 
the  present,  and  no  light  in  the  future,  but  only 
storms,  lurid  by  the  contrast  of  past  prosperity,  and 
growing  darker  as  they  advance  ; — to  wear  a  constant 
expectation  of  woe  like  a  girdle ;  to  see  want  at  the 
door  imperiously  knocking,  while  there  is  no  strength 
to  repel,  or  courage  to  bear  its  tyranny ; — indeed, 
this  is  dreadful  enough.  But  there  is  a  thing  more 
dreadful, — it  is  more  dreadful  if  the  man  is  wrecked 
with  his  fortune.  Can  anything  be  more  poignant 
in  anticipation  than  one's  ownself  unnerved,  cowed 
down,  and  slackened  to  utter  pliancy,  and  helplessly 
drifting  and  driven  down  the  troubled  sea  of  life  ? 
Of  all  things  on  earth  next  to  his  God,  a  broken  man 
should  cling  to  a  courageous  industry. 

To  be  pressed  down  by  adversity  has  nothing  in  it 
of  disgrace  ;  but  it  is  disgraceful  to  lie  down  under  it 
like  a  supple  dog.  Indeed,  to  stand  composedly  in 
the  storm  amidst  its  rage  and  wildest  devastations  ; 
to  let  it  beat  over  you  and  roar  around  you,  and  pass 
by  you,  and  leave  you  undismayed, — this  is  to  be  a 
man.  The  ant  will  repair  his  dwelling  as  often  as 
it  is  destroyed  ;  the  spider  will  exhaust  life  itself,  be- 
fore he  will  live  without  a  web  ,  the  bee  can  be 
decoyed  from  his  labor,  neither  by  plenty  nor  scarcity. 
Every  idle  young  man  should  be  ashamed  to  be  re- 
buked in  this  respect  by  the  spider,  the  ant,  and  the 
bee. 

DISHONESTY. 

There  are  at  all  times  many  ways  by  which  young 
men  are  tempted  to  be  dishonest,  and  thus  ruin  their 


DISHONESTY.  585 

enjoyment  for  life.  Some  find  in  their  bosom  from  the 
first  a  vehement  inclination  to  dishonest  ways. 
Knavish  propensities  are  inherent  ;  born  with  the 
child,  and  transmissible  from  parent  to  son.  Others 
are  taught  the  same,  by  being  early  encouraged  to  be 
sharp  in  bargains,  and  vigilant  for  every  advantage. 
Little  is  said  about  honesty,  and  much  about  shrewd 
traffic.  A  dexterous  trick  becomes  a  family  anec- 
dote ;  visitors  are  regaled  with  the  boy's  precocious 
keenness.  Hearing  the  praise  of  his  exploits,  he 
studies  craft,  and  seeks  parental  admiration  by  adroit 
knaveries.  He  is  taught  for  his  safety  that  he  must 
not  range  beyond  the  law ;  that  would  be  unprofit- 
able. He  calculates  his  morality  thus  :  Legal  honesty 
is  the  best  policy, — dishonesty,  then,  is  a  bad  bargain, 
and  everything  is  wrong  which  is  unthrifty.  What- 
ever profit  breaks  no  legal  statute, — though  it  is 
gained  by  falsehood,  by  unfairness,  by  gloss,  or 
through  dishonor,  unkindness,  and  an  unscrupulous 
conscience,  he  considers  fair,  and  says  :  The  law  al- 
lows it.  Men  may  spend  a  long  life  without  an  in- 
dictable action,  and  without  an  honest  one.  No  law 
can  reach  the  insidious  ways  of  subtle  craft. 

Again,  many  a  young  man  cheats  his  business  by 
transferring  his  means  to  theaters,  race-courses,  ex- 
pensive parties,  and  to  the  nameless  and  numberless 
projects  of  pleasure.  The  enterprise  of  others  is 
baffled  by  the  extravagance  of  their  family  ;  for  few 
men  can  make  as  much  in  a  year  as  an  extravagant 
woman  can  carry  on  her  back  in  one  winter.  Some 
are  ambitious  of  fashionable  society,  and  will  gratify 
their  vanity  at  any  expense.  This  disproportion  be- 
tween means  and  expense  soon  brings  on  a  crisis. 


586  DISHONESTY. 

The  victim  is  straitened  for  money ;  without  it  he 
must  abandon  his  rank  ;  for  fashionable  society  re- 
morselessly rejects  all  butterflies  that  have  lost  their 
brilliant  colors.  Which  shall  he  choose,  honesty  and 
mortifying  exclusion,  or  gaiety  purchased  by  dis- 
honesty ?  The  severity  of  this  choice  sometimes 
sobers  the  intoxicated  brain  ;  and  a  young  man 
shrinks  from  the  gulf,  appalled  at  the  darkness  of  dis- 
honesty. But  to  excessive  vanity,  high-life  with  or 
without  fraud,  is  paradise,  and  any  other  life  purga- 
tory. And  thus  a  resort  to  dishonesty  is  had  without 
a  scruple.  It  is  at  this  point  that  public  sentiment 
half  sustains  dishonesty  by  scourging  the  thief  of 
necessity,  and  pitying  the  thief  of  fashion. 

Running  in  debt  is  another  prolific  source  of  dis- 
honesty and  misery.  A  debtor  is  tempted  to  elude 
responsibility  ;  to  delay  settlements  ;  to  prevaricate 
upon  the  terms ;  to  resist  equity,  and  devise  specious 
fraud.  He  disputes  true  accounts  ;  he  studies  subter- 
fuges ;  extorts  provocatious  delays  ;  and  harbors  in 
every  nook,  and  corner,  and  passage  of  the  law's 
labyrinth.  At  length  the  measure  is  filled  up,  and 
the  malignant  power  of  debt  is  known.  It  has 
opened  in  the  heart  every  fountain  of  iniquity ;  it 
has  besoiled  the  conscience ;  it  has  tarnished  the 
honor ;  it  has  made  the  man  a  deliberate  student  of 
knavery ;  a  systematic  practitioner  of  fraud  ;  it  has 
dragged  him  through  all  the  sewers  of  petty  passions, 
— anger,  hate,  revenge,  malicious  folly,  or  malignant 
shame.  When  a  debtor  is  beaten  at  every  point, 
and  the  law  will  put  her  screws  upon  him,  there  is  no 
depth  in  the  gulf  of  dishonesty  into  which  he  will 
not  boldly  plunge.  Some  men  put  their  property  in 


DISHONESTY.  587 

the  flames,  assassinate  the  detested  creditor,  and  end 
the  frantic  tragedy  by  suicide  or  the  gallows.  Others, 
in  view  of  the  impending  catastrophe,  convert  all 
property  to  cash,  and  conceal  it. 

A  corrupt  public  sentiment  in  which  dishonesty  is 
not  disgraceful ;  in  which  bad  men  are  respectable, 
are  trusted,  are  exalted, — is  a  curse  to  the  young, 
and  an  enemy  to  peace.  The  reigning  fever  of  specu- 
lation, the  universal  derangement  of  business,  and 
the  growing  laxness  of  morals,  is,  to  an  alarming  ex- 
tent, introducing  such  a  state  of  things.  Also,  the 
direct  handling  of  money  has  a  terrible  influence  on 
the  heart.  In  many  cases,  here  first  begins  to  work 
the  leaven  of  death.  The  mind  wanders  in  dreams  of 
gain ;  it  broods  over  projects  of  unlawful  riches ; 
stealthily  at  first,  and  then  with  less  reserve  ;  at  last 
it  boldly  meditates  the  possibility  of  being  dishonest 
and  safe.  When  a  man  can  seriously  reflect  upon 
dishonesty  as  a  possible  and  profitable  thing,  he  is  al- 
ready deeply  dishonest.  To  a  mind  so  tainted,  will 
flock  stories  of  consummate  craft,  of  effective 
knavery,  of  fraud  covered  by  its  brilliant  success. 

At  times  the  mind  shrinks  from  its  own  thoughts, 
and  trembles  to  look  down  the  giddy  cliff  on  whose 
edge  they  poise,  or  over  which  they  fling  themselves 
like  sporting  seabirds.  But  these  imaginations  will 
not  be  driven  from  the  heart  where  they  have  once 
nested.  They  haunt  a  man's  business,  visit  him  in 
dreams,  and  vampire-like,  fan  the  slumbers  of  the 
victim  whom  they  will  destroy.  In  some  feverish 
hour,  vibrating  between  conscience  and  avarice,  the 
man  staggers  to  a  compromise.  To  satisfy  his  con- 
science, he  refuses  to  steal ;  and  to  gratify  his  avarice, 


588  DISHONESTY. 

he  borrows  the  funds  ; — not  openly, — not  of  owners, 
—not  of  men  ;  but  of  the  till, — the  safe, — the  vault ! 
He  resolves  to  restore  the  money  before  discovery 
can  ensue,  and  pocket  the  profits.  Meanwhile,  false 
entries  are  made,  perjured  oaths  are  sworn,  forged 
papers  are  filed.  His  expenses  grow  profuse,  and 
men  wonder  from  what  fountain  so  copious  a  stream 
can  flow. 

Let  us  stop  here  to  survey  his  condition.  He  ap- 
parently flourishes,  is  called  prosperous,  thinks  him- 
self safe.  Is  he  happy  f  Alas,  he  has  stolen,  and 
embarked  the  amount  upon  a  sea  over  which  wander 
perpetual  storms ;  where  wreck  is  the  common  fate, 
and  escape  the  accident ;  and  now  all  his  chance  for 
the  semblance  of  honesty  is  staked  upon  the  return 
of  his  embezzlements  from  among  the  sands,  the 
rocks  and  currents,  the  winds  and  waves,  and  dark- 
ness of  tumultuous  speculation.  At  length  dawns  the 
day  of  discovery.  His  guilty  dreams  have  long  fore- 
tokened it.  As  he  confronts  the  disgrace  almost 
face  to  face,  how  changed  is  the  hideous  aspect  of  his 
deed  from  that  fair  face  of  promise  with  which  it 
tempted  him  !  Overawed  by  the  prospect  of  open 
shame,  and  his  family's  disgrace,  he  shrinks  out  of 
life  as  a  suicide,  or  decamps  between  two  days,  or 
turns  about  with  cool  impudence,  and  defies  officers 
and  employers  to  do  their  worst. 

Scheming  speculation  demoralizes  honesty,  and  al- 
most necessitates  dishonesty.  He  who  puts  his  own 
interests  to  rash  ventures,  will  scarcely  do  better  for 
others.  The  speculator  regards  the  weightiest  affair 
as  only  a  splendid  game.  Indeed,  a  speculator  on 
exchange,  and  a  gambler  at  his  table  follow  one  voca- 


DISHONESTY.  589 

tion,  only  with  different  instruments.  One  employs 
cards  or  dice,  the  other  property.  The  one  can  no 
more  foresee  the  result  of  his  schemes  than  the 
other  what  spots  will  come  up  on  his  dice  ;  the  cal- 
culations of  both  are  only  the  chances  of  luck.  Both 
burn  with  unhealthy  excitement ;  both  are  avaricious 
of  gains,  but  careless  of  what  they  win  ;  both  de- 
pend more  upon  fortune  than  skill ;  they  have  a 
common  distaste  for  labor ;  with  each,  right  and 
wrong  are  only  the  accidents  of  a  game ;  neither 
would  scruple  in  any  hour  to  set  his  whole  being  on 
the  edge  of  ruin,  and  going  over,  pull  down  if  pos- 
sible, a  hundred  others  with  him. 

Now,  while  the  power  of  money  is  confessedly 
great,  and  while  it  can  procure  many  things  for  its 
possessor  which  make  life  pleasant,  yet  money,  dis- 
honestly obtained,  can  never  give  happiness.  If 
wealth  is  gotten  by  fraud  or  avarice,  it  blights  the 
heart  as  autumnal  fires  ravage  the  prairies  !  The 
eye  glows  with  greedy  cunning,  conscience  shrivels, 
the  light  of  love  goes  out,  and  the  wretch  moves 
amidst  his  coin  no  better,  no  happier  than  a  loath- 
some reptile  in  a  mine  of  gold.  A  dreary  fire  of 
self-love  burns  in  the  bosom  of  the  avaricious  rich, 
as  a  hermit's  flame  in  a  ruined  temple  of  the  desert. 
The  fire  is  kindled  for  no  deity,  and  is  odorous  with 
no  incense,  but  only  warms  the  shivering  anchorite. 

As  has  been  said  before,  happiness  resides  pri- 
marily within  a  man  ;  it  is  an  outgrowth  of  a  pure 
heart.  There  is  no  more  happiness  in  a  foul  heart, 
than  there  is  health  in  a  pestilent  morass.  Satisfac- 
tion is  not  made  out  of  such  stuff  as  fighting 
carousals,  obscene  revelry,  and  midnight  orgies.  An 


DISHONESTY. 

alligator,  gorging  or  swollen  with  surfeit,  and  basking 
in  the  sun,  has  the  same  happiness  which  riches  bring 
to  the  man  who  eats  to  gluttony,  drinks  to  drunken- 
ness, and  sleeps  to  stupidity.  When  God  sends 
wealth  to  bless  men,  he  sends  it  gradually  like  a  gen- 
tle rain.  When  God  sends  riches  to  punish  men, 
they  come  tumultuously,  like  a  roaring  torrent, 
tearing  up  landmarks,  and  sweeping' all  before  them 
in  promiscuous  ruin.  Almost  every  evil  which  en- 
virons the  path  to  wealth,  springs  from  that  criminal 
haste  which  substitutes  adroitness  for  industry,  and 
trick  for  toil. 

Greed  of  money  is  like  fire ;  the  more  fuel  it  has, 
the  hotter  it  burns.  Everything  conspires  to  inten- 
sify the  heat.  Loss  excites  by  desperation,  and  gain 
by  exhilaration.  The  sight  of  houses  better  than 
our  own,  of  dress  beyond  our  means,  of  jewels  cost- 
lier than  we  may  wear,  of  stately  equipage,  and  rare 
curiosities  beyond  our  reach,  these  hatch  the  viper 
brood  of  covetous  thoughts ;  vexing  the  poor  who 
would  be  rich  ;  tormenting  the  rich  who  would  be 
richer.  The  covetous  man  pines  to  see  pleasure  ;  is 
sad  in  the  presence  of  cheerfulness  ;  and  the  joy  of 
the  world  is  his  sorrow,  because  all  the  happiness  of 
others  is  not  his.  To  the  covetous  man,  life  is  a 
nightmare,  and  God  lets  him  wrestle  with  it  as  best 
he  may.  Mammon  might  build  its  palace  on  such  a 
heart,  and  pleasure  bring  all  its  revelry  there,  and 
honor  all  its  garland, — it  would  be  like  pleasures  in  a 
sepulchre,  and  garlands  on  a  tomb. 

Thorough  selfishness  destroys  or  paralyzes  enjoy- 
ment. A  heart  made  selfish  by  the  contest  for 
wealth,  is  like  a  citadel  stormed  in  war.  The  banner 


VIRTUE.  591 

of  victory  waves  over  dilapidated  walls,  desolate 
chambers,  and  magazines  riddled  with  artillery.  The 
infernal  canker  of  selfishness  will  eat  out  the  whole 
heart  with  the  fire  of  hell,  or  bake  it  harder  than  a 
stone.  The  heart  of  avaricious  old  age  stands  like  a 
bare  rock  in  a  black  wilderness,  and  there  is  no  rod  of 
authority,  nor  incantation  of  pleasure,  which  can 
draw  from  it  one  crystal  drop  to  quench  the  raging 
thirst  of  satisfaction. 

VIRTUE. 

But  if  industry  and  honesty  are  so  essential  to 
happiness,  what  shall  be  said  of  the  power  of  virtue  ? 
The  influence  of  pretty,  artful,  seductive  women 
over  young  men,  is  something  fearful  to  contem- 
plate. As  moths  and  tiny  insects  flutter  around  the 
bright  blaze  which  was  kindled  for  no  harm,  so  the 
foolish  young  fall  down  burned  and  destroyed  by  the 
blaze  of  beauty.  As  the  flame  which  burns  to  de- 
stroy the  insect  is  consuming  itself,  and  soon  sinks 
into  the  socket,  so  beauty,  too  often  draws  on  itself 
that  ruin  which  it  inflicts  upon  others.  The  tongue 
of  the  strange  woman  is  like  a  bended  bow  which 
sends  the  silvery  shaft  of  flattering  words.  Her 
eyes  shall  cheat  thee,  her  dress  shall  beguile  thee,  her 
beauty  is  a  trap,  her  sighs  are  baits,  her  words  are 
lures,  her  love  is  poisonous,  her  flattery  is  the  spider's 
web  spread  for  thee. 

A  young  man  might  trust  the  sea  with  a  tiny  boat, 
trust  the  fickle  wind,  trust  the  changing  skies  of 
April,  trust  the  miser's  generosity,  the  tyrant's 
mercy ;  but  he  must  not  trust  himself  near  the  artful 


592  VIRTUE. 

woman  armed  in  her  beauty,  her  cunning  raiment, 
her  dimpled  smiles,  her  sighs  of  sorrow,  her  look  of 
love,  her  voice  of  flattery.  There  is  no  vice  like 
licentiousness  to  delude  with  the  most  fascinating 
proffers  of  delight,  and  fulfill  the  promise  with  the 
most  loathsome  experience.  All  vices  at  the  begin- 
ning are  silver-tongued,  but  none  so  impassioned  as 
this.  All  vices  in  the  end  cheat  their  dupes,  but 
none  with  such  overwhelming  disaster  as  this. 

The  heart  of  youth  is  a  wide  prairie.  Over  it  hang 
the  clouds  of  heaven  to  water  it,  the  sun  throws  its 
broad  sheets  of  light  upon  it  to  wake  its  life ;  out 
of  its  bosom  spring,  the  long  season  through, 
flowers  of  a  hundred  names  and  hues,  twining  to- 
gether their  lovely  forms,  wafting  to  each  other  a 
grateful  odor,  and  nodding  each  to  each  in  the  sum- 
mer breeze.  Such  would  man  be,  did  he  hold  that 
purity  of  heart  which  God  gave  him  !  But  a  de- 
praved heart  is  a  vast  continent;  on  it  are  mountain- 
ranges  of  power,  and  dark,  deep  streams,  and  pools, 
and  morasses.  If  once  the  full  and  terrible  clouds  of 
temptation  settle  down  thickly  and  fixedly  upon  it, 
then  the  heart  shall  feel  tides  and  streams  of  irresis- 
tible power,  mocking  its  control,  and  hurrying  fiercely 
down  from  steep  to  steep,  with  groaning  desolation. 
One's  only  resource  is  to  avoid  the  uprising  of  giant 
passions. 

There  is  hardly  any  being  in  the  world  more  vile 
and  loathsome  than  the  libertine.  His  errand  into 
this  world  is  to  explore  every  depth  of  sensuality, 
and  collect  upon  himself  the  foulness  of  every  one. 
He  is  proud  to  be  vile ;  his  ambition  is  to  be  viler 
than  o*-ber  men.  His  coarse  feelings,  stimulated  by 


VIRTUE.  593 

gross  excitements,  are  insensible  to  delicacy.  The 
exquisite  bloom,  the  dew  and  freshness  of  the  flowers 
of  the  heart  which  delight  good  men,  he  gazes  upon 
as  a  behemoth  would  gaze  enraptured  upon  a  prairie 
of  flowers.  It  is  so  much  pasture.  The  forms,  the 
odors,  the  hues,  are  only  a  mouthful  for  his  terrible 
appetite.  Therefore,  his  breath  blights  every  inno- 
cent thing.  He  sneers  at  the  mention  of  purity,  and 
leers  in  the  very  face  of  virtue,  as  though  she  were 
herself  corrupt,  if  the  truth  were  known.  He  assures 
the  credulous  disciple  that  there  is  no  purity  ;  that  its 
appearances  are  only  the  veils  which  cover  indul- 
gence. Nay,  he  solicits  praise  for  the  very  openness 
of  his  evil ;  and  tells  the  listener  that  all  act  as  he 
acts,  but  few  only  are  courageous  enough  to  own  it. 
A  young  man  knows  little  of  life  ;  less  of  himself. 
He  feels  in  his  bosom  the  various  impulses,  wild  de- 
sires, restless  cravings  he  can  hardly  tell  of  what,  a 
somber  melancholy  when  all  is  gay,  a  violent  exhila- 
ration when  others  are  sober.  These  wild  gushes  of 
feeling  peculiar  to  youth,  the  sagacious  tempter  has 
felt,  has  studied,  has  practiced  upon,  until  he  can  sit 
before  that  most  capacious  organ,  the  human  mind, 
knowing  every  stop  and  all  the  combinations,  and 
competent  to  touch  any  note  through  the  diapason. 
He  begins  afar  off.  He  decries  the  virtue  of  all 
men  ;  studies  to  produce  a  doubt  that  any  are  under 
self-restraint.  He  unpacks  his  filthy  stories,  plays 
off  the  fireworks  of  his  corrupt  imagination, — its 
blue-lights,  its  red-lights,  and  green-lights,  and 
sparkle-spitting  lights  ;  and  edging  in  upon  the  yield- 
ing youth  who  begins  to  wonder  at  his  experience,  he 
boasts  his  first  exploits,  and  hisses  at  the  purity  of 


594  VIRTUE. 

women ;  he  grows  yet  bolder,  tells  more  wicked 
deeds,  and  invents  worse  even,  than  he  ever  per- 
formed, though  he  has  performed  worse  than  good 
men  ever  thought  of. 

Again,  there  is  a  polished  libertine,  in  manners 
studiously  refined,  in  taste  faultless  ;  his  face  is  mild 
and  engaging  ;  his  words  drop  as  pure  as  newly-made 
honey.  In  public  society,  he  would  rather  attract 
regard  as  a  model  of  purity,  and  suspicion  herself 
could  hardly  look  askance  upon  him.  Under  this 
brilliant  exterior,  his  heart  is  like  a  sepulchre,  full  of 
all  uncleanness.  Contrasted  with  the  gross  libertine, 
it  would  not  be  supposed  that  he  had  a  thought  in 
common  with  him.  Professing  unbounded  admiration 
of  virtue  in  public,  he  leaves  not  in  private,  a  point 
untransgressed.  His  reading  has  culled  every  glow- 
ing picture  of  amorous  poets,  every  tempting  scene 
of  loose  dramatists,  and  looser  novelists.  Enriched 
by  these,  his  imagination,  like  a  rank  soil,  is  over- 
grown with  a  prodigious  luxuriance  of  poisonous 
herbs  and  deadly  flowers.  Of  these  two  libertines, 
the  most  refined  is  the  most  dangerous.  The  one  is 
a  rattlesnake  which  carries  its  warning  with  it,  the 
other,  hiding  his  burnished  scales  in  the  grass,  skulks 
to  perform  unsuspected  deeds  in  darkness.  The  one 
is  the  visible  fog  and  miasm  of  the  morass,  the  other 
is  the  serene  air  of  a  tropical  city,  which,  though 
brilliant,  is  loaded  with  invisible  pestilence. 

There  are  many  evils  which  hold  their  victims  by 
the  force  of  habit ;  there  are  others  which  fasten 
them  by  breaking  their  return  to  society.  Many  a 
person  never  reforms,  because  reform  would  bring  no 
relief.  There  are  other  evils  which  hold  men  to 


SELECTING    A    WIFE.  595 

them,  because  they  are  like  the  beginning  of  a  fire ; 
they  tend  to  burn  with  fiercer  and  wilder  flames,  until 
all  fuel  is  consumed,  and  go  out  only  when  there  is 
nothing  to  burn.  Of  this  last  kind  is  the  sin  of  li- 
centiousness ;  and  when  the  conflagration  once  breaks 
out,  experience  has  shown  that  the  chances  of  refor- 
mation are  few,  indeed. 

SELECTING  A   WIFE. 

The  richest  treasure  a  man  ever  gets  in  this  world 
is  a  good  wife.  The  poorest  investment  he  ever 
makes  is  a  poor  wife,  no  matter  how  much  money 
she  has.  Marriage  is  a  transaction  which  should  be 
removed  as  far  as  possible  from  the  moneyed  value 
of  either  party.  The  happiest  homes  everywhere, 
have  been  bought  and  paid  for  by  the  mutual  earn- 
ings after  marriage.  Nothing  is  truer  than  that  the 
good  wife  in  the  home  is  as  surely  a  money-earner  as 
the  husband  who  toils  with  hand  or  brain.  The  best 
motto  of  every  young  man  or  woman  is,  "  Marry 
for  love,  and  work  for  riches."  It  may  be  an  old 
fogy  idea,  but  millions  of  homes  will  bear  testimony 
to  its  truthfulness. 

Some  young  men  act  very  foolishly  in  choosing  a 
companion  for  life  ;  some  marry  dimples ;  some  ears, 
some  noses ;  the  contest,  however,  generally  lies  be- 
tween the  eyes  and  the  hair.  The  mouth,  too,  is 
occasionally  married ;  the  chin  not  so  often.  Poor 
partners,  these,  you  will  own.  But  young  men  do 
marry  all  of  these,  and  many  other  bits  of  scraps  of 
a  wife,  instead  of  the  true  thing.  Such  as  the  mar- 
riage is,  such  is  the  after-life.  He  that  would  have  a 


596  WHO    NOT    TO    MARRY. 

wife,  must  marry  a  true  woman.  If  he  can  meet  with 
one  of  equal  social  position,  like  education,  similar 
disposition,  kindred  sympathies,  and  habits  congenial 
to  his  own,  let  him  marry.  But  let  him  beware  of 
marrying  a  curl,  or  a  neck,  however  swan-like,  or  a 
voice,  however  melodious.  The  idea  of  a  man  in  his 
senses,  saying,  "  I  take  this  straight  nose,  regular 
teeth,  ringlets,  pretty  foot,  musical  skill,  money,  to  be 
my  lawful  wedded  wife."  Good  qualities  are  far  be- 
yond all  these  put  together  A  woman  may  be  very 
plain  in  her  personal  appearance,  but  if  she  have 
good  domestic  qualities,  she  will  prove  a  better  treas- 
ure than  the  brainless,  heartless  beauty. 

It  will  be  well  in  most  cases  for  a  young  man  to 
pay  some  attention  to  the  family  into  which  he  mar- 
ries. The  saying  that  a  man  only  marries  his  wife, 
and  not  her  relations,  is  only  true  to  a  very  limited 
extent.  He  becomes  one  of  the  family  the  moment 
he  joins  hands  with  a  daughter  of  it  at  the  altar, 
and  he  takes  a  share  in  its  fortunes  and  its  character. 
And  while  there  are  many  worthy  girls  in  lowly  and 
poor  families,  yet  if  the  family  be  noted  for  some 
characteristics  and  qualities  which  will  be  like  a  per- 
petual thorn  in  your  side,  you  had  better  not  ally 
yourself  with  it.  For  by  a  wise  search  you  can  find 
other  girls  equally  good  without  any  bad  family  in- 
cumbrance  upon  them. 

WHOM  NOT  TO  MARRT. 

Don  t  marry  a  girl  whose  whole  aim  in  life  is  simply 
to  dress.  The  world  is  full  of  such.  They  think  of 
nothing  else  ;  they  dream  of  it,  live  for  it,  flutter 


A    GOOD    HOUSEKEEPER.  597 

round  a  drygoods  store  like  butterflies  round  a 
gaudy  flower,  ever  on  the  lookout  for  the  latest  style. 
It  is  a  great  stain  upon  any  woman's  character  when 
she  is  disposed  to  dress  extravagantly.  Many  young 
women  spend  all  they  can  get  in  finery,  who,  the  mo- 
ment they  open  their  mouth  to  speak,  display  a 
poverty  of  mind  that  is  positively  appalling.  Cowper 
describes  this  class  as 

"  Insolent  and  self-caressed, 
By  vanity's  unwearied  finger  dressed, 
Forget  the  blush  that  virgin  fears  impart 
To  modest  cheeks,  and  borrow  one  from  art ; 
Curled,  scented,  furbelowed,  and  flounced  around, 
With  feet  too  delicate  to  touch  the  ground, 
They  stretch  the  neck,  and  roll  the  wanton  eye, 
And  sigh  for  every  fool  that  passes  by." 

A  GOOD  HOUSEKEEPER. 

See  that  you  get  a  good  housekeeper,  with  all  the 
rest.  If  there  is  an  unlovely  sight  in  the  world,  it  is 
a  listless,  dirty,  slatternly  woman.  She  would  spoil 
the  best  furniture  and  the  best  house  in  a  short  time. 
If  we  enter  a  well-ordered  house,  the  spirit  of  it 
prevails  over  everything,  and  we  feel  at  once  its 
genial  influence.  While  on  the  contrary,  a  disorderly 
house  spreads  its  evil  spirit  over  all  around  ;  and  this 
as  a  rule,  is  all  owing  to  the  want  of  a  little  method. 
As  one  drop  of  dirty  water  will  pollute  a  glassful,  so 
one  untidy  habit  will  upset  the  happiness  of  a  whole 
house.  Where  there  is  turmoil,  there  is  always  dis- 
comfort ;  and  such  untidy  people  are  always  in  a 
kind  of  low  fever.  Industrious  habits  have  a  very 


598  A    GOOD    HOUSEKEEPER. 

close  connection  with  peace  of  mind,  cheerfulness  of 
spirit,  good  temper,  and  bodily  health. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  being 
too  nice  and  particular.  Suui  a  wife  is  well  described 
in  the  following  lines  : 

"It  is  just  as  you  say,  neighbor  Green; 

A  treasure  indeed  is  my  wife*. 
Such  another  for  bnstle  and  work 

I  never  have  found  in  my  life. 
But  then  she  keeps  every  one  else 

As  busy  as  birds  on  the  wing; 
There  is  never  a  moment  for  rest, 

She  is  such  a  fidgety  thing! 

. 
tt  She  makes  the  best  bread  in  the  town, 

Her  pies  are  a  perfect  delight, 
Her  coffee  a  rich  golden  brown, 

Her  custards  and  puddings  just  right. 
But  then  while  I  eat  them  she  tells 

Of  the  care  and  the  worry  they  bring, 
Of  the  martyr-like  toil  she  endures — 

Oh,  she's  such  a  fidgety  thing! 

tt  My  house  is  as  neat  as  a.  pin; 

You  should  see  how  the  door-handles  shine, 
And  all  of  the  soft-cushioned  chairs, 

And  nicely  swept  carpets  are  mine. 
But  then  she  so  frets  at  the  dust, 

At  a  fly,  at  a  straw,  at  a  string, 
That  I  stay  out  of  doors  all  I  can, 

She  is  such  a  fidgety  thing! 

*  She  knits  all  my  stockings  herself, 

My  shirts  are  bleached  white  as  the  snowj 

My  old  clothes  look  better  than  new, 
Yet  daily  more  threadbare  they  grow; 

But  then  if  a  morsel  of  lint 


AN    AFFECTIONATE    WIFE.  599 

Or  dust  on  my  trousers  should  cling, 
I'm  sure  of  one  sermon,  at  least, 
She  is  such  a  fidgety  thing! 

"  You  have  heard  of  a  spirit  so  meek, 

So  meek  that  it  never  opposes, 
Its  own  it  dares  never  to  speak — 

Alas!  I  am  meeker  than  Moses! 
But  then  I  am  not  reconciled 

The  subordinate  always  to  sing; 
I  submit,  to  get  rid  of  a  row; 

She  is  such  a  fidgety  thing!" 

AN  AFFECTIONATE  WIFE. 

Strive  to  get  a  cheerful,  affectionate  wife.  A  good 
word  maketh  the  heart  light.  Kind  words  have  a 
magical  power  in  allaying  irritations,  lightening  bur- 
dens, sweetening  toil,  conciliating  affection,  and  dif- 
fusing around  a  serene  and  bracing  air.  They  are 
the  oil  to  the  machinery  of  life.  Eliza  Cook  hath 
truly  written : 

"  A  look  of  kind  truth,  and  a  word  of  good-will, 

Are  the  magical  helps  on  life's  road; 
With  a  mountain  to  travel  they  shorten  the  hill, 
With  a  burden  they  lighten  the  load. 

"  Wind  and  thunder  have  rolled,  yet  the  wheat-ears  of  gold, 

And  the  red  grapes  shine,  glowing  together; 
So  should  spirits  unite  in  the  heart's  harvest  light, 
And  forget  all  the  past  of  rough  weather. 


tt  They  should  balance  the  glad,  with  the  somber  and  sad, 

Let  the  voice  of  good  fellowship  call ; 
For  while  love  sings  aloud,  like  a  lark  in  the  cloud, 
There  is  beauty  and  joy  for  us  all." 


600  A    SUNNY    DISPOSITION. 


A   SUNNY  DISPOSITION. 


"  Cheerful  looks  make  every  dish  a  feast." 

— MASSINGER. 

"  What  then  remains  but  well  our  power  to  use, 
And  keep  good  humor  still,  whatever  we  lose? 
And  trust  me,  dear,  good  humor  will  prevail 
When  airs  and  flights,  and  screams,  and  scoldings  fail." 

— POPE. 

|HERE  are  a  few  noble  natures  whose  very 
presence  carries  sunshine  with  them  wher- 
ever they  go ;  a  sunshine  which  means 
pity  for  the  poor,  sympathy  for  the  suffer- 
ing, help  for  the  unfortunate,  and  benig- 
nity toward  all.  How  such  a  face  en- 
livens every  other  face  it  meets,  and  carries  into  every 
company,  vivacity,  and  joy,  and  gladness  !  But  the 
scowl  and  frown,  begotten  of  a  selfish  heart,  and 
manifesting  itself  in  daily,  almost  hourly  fretfulness, 
complaining,  fault-finding,  angry  criticisms,  spiteful 
comments  on  the  motives  and  actions  of  others,  how 
they  thin  the  cheek,  shrivel  the  face,  sour  and  sadden 
the  countenance  !  No  joy  in  the  heart,  no  nobility 
in  the  soul,  no  generosity  in  the  nature,  the  whole 
character  as  cold  as  an  iceberg,  as  hard  as  an  Alpine 
rock,  and  as  arid  as  the  wastes  of  Sahara ! 


THE  SNOW-BIRDS'  CHRISTMAS  VISIT. 


A   SUNNY    DISPOSITION.  6oi 

Be  cheerful,  for  it  is  the  only  happy  life.  The 
times  may  be  hard,  but  it  will  make  them  no  easier  to 
wear  a  gloomy  and  sad  countenance.  It  is  the  sun- 
shine, and  not  the  cloud  that  makes  the  flower. 
There  is  always  that  before,  or  around  us,  which 
should  fill  the  heart  with  warmth.  The  sky  is  blue, 
ten  times,  where  it  is  black  once.  You  have  troubles, 
it  may  be,  but  so  have  others.  None  are  free  from 
them,  and  perhaps  it  is  well  that  none  should  be. 
That  would  be  a  dull  sea,  and  the  sailor  would  never 
get  skill,  where  there  was  nothing  to  disturb  the  sur- 
face of  the  ocean.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to 
extract  all  the  happiness  and  enjoyment  he  can,  with- 
out and  within  him,  and,  above  all,  he  should  look  on 
the  bright  side  of  things.  What  though  things  do 
look  a  little  dark  ?  The  lane  will  turn,  and  the  night 
will  end  in  broad  day.  In  the  long  run  the  great 
balance  rights  itself.  Men  are  not  made  to  hang 
down  either  head  or  lips  ;  and  those  who  do,  only 
show  that  they  are  departing  from  the  paths  of  true 
common  sense  and  right.  There  is  more  virtue  in 
one  sunbeam,  than  in  a  whole  hemisphere  of  cloud 
and  gloom.  Therefore,  we  repeat,  look  on  the  bright 
side  of  things.  Cultivate  what  is  warm  and  genial, 
—not  the  cold  and  repulsive,  the  dark  and  morose. 

The  cheerful  are  generally  the  busy,  for  frogs  do 
not  croak  in  running  water.  So  active,  healthy  minds 
are  seldom  troubled  with  gloomy  forebodings.  These 
come  only  up  from  the  stagnant  depths  of  a  spirit 
unstirred  by  generous  impulses,  or  the  blessed  neces- 
sities of  honest  toil.  The  industrious  bee  stops  not 
to  complain  that  there  are  so  many  poisonous  flowers 
and  thorny  branches  in  his  road,  but  buzzes  right  on, 


6O2  A    SUNNY    DISPOSITION. 

selecting  the  honey  where  he  can  find  it,  and  passing 
quietly  by  the  places  where  it  is  not.  So  should  all 
workers  do  in  the  world's  great  hive. 

Although  cheerfulness  and  a  sunny  disposition  are 
valuable  in  all,  yet  these  become  most  angelic  and 
powerful  in  women.  We  somehow  expect  the  fairer 
sex  to  be  better-natured  and  more  cheerful  and  lovely 
than  men.  Such  a  woman  diffuses  the  oil  of  gladness 
through  a  whole  household.  It  is  easy  enough  for  a 
housewife  to  make  arrangements  for  an  occasional 
feast ;  but  amid  the  weariness  and  cares  of  life  ;  the 
troubles  real  and  imaginary,  of  a  family  ;  the  much 
thought  and  toil  which  are  requisite  to  make  the 
family  a  home  of  thrift,  order,  and  comfort ;  the 
varieties  of  temper  and  cross-lines  of  taste  and  incli- 
nation which  are  to  be  found  in  a  large  household, — 
to  maintain  a  heart  full  of  good  nature,  and  a  face 
always  bright  with  cheerfulness, — this  is  a  perpetual 
festivity. 

We  do  not  mean  a  mere  superficial  simper,  which  has 
no  more  character  in  it  than  the  flow  of  a  brook,  but 
that  exhaustless  patience,  and  self-control,  and  kind- 
ness and  tact  which  spring  from  good  sense  and  brave 
purposes.  Neither  is  it  the  mere  reflection  of  pros- 
perity, for  cheerfulness,  then,  is  no  virtue.  Its  best  ex- 
hibition is  in  the  dark  background  of  real  adversity. 
Affairs  assume  a  gloomy  aspect,  poverty  is  hovering 
about  the  door,  sickness  has  already  entered,  days  of 
hardship  and  nights  of  watching  go  slowly  by,  and 
then  you  see  the  triumph  of  which  we  speak.  When 
the  strong  man  has  bowed  himself  and  his  brow  is 
knit  and  creased,  you  will  see  how  the  whole  life  of 
the  household  seems  to  hang  on  the  frailer  form, 


A    SUNNY    DISPOSITION.  603 

which,  with  solicitudes  of  her  own,  passing  it  may  be 
under  "  the  sacred  primal  sorrow  of  her  sex,"  has  an 
eye  and  an  ear  for  every  one  but  herself,  suggestive 
of  expedients,  hopeful  in  extremities,  helpful  in  kind 
words  and  affectionate  smiles,  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  the  medicine,  the  light,  the  heart  of  a  whole 
household.  God  bless  that  bright,  sunny  face  !  says 
many  a  reader  as  he  recalls  one  of  mother,  wife,  sis- 
ter, daughter,  which  has  been  to  him  all  that  these 
words  have  described. 

A  quaint  old  writer  hath  said  :  "  Every  man  either 
is  rich,  or  may  be  so  ;  though  not  all  in  one  and  the 
same  wealth.  Some  have  abundance,  and  rejoice  in 
it ;  some  a  competency,  and  are  content ;  some  hav- 
ing nothing,  have  a  mind  desiring  nothing.  He  that 
hath  most,  wants  something  ;  he  that  hath  least,  is  in 
something  supplied  ;  wherein  the  mind  which  maketh 
rich,  may  well  possess  him  with  the  thought  of  store. 
Who  whistles  out  more  content  than  the  low-fortuned 
plowman,  or  sings  more  merrily  than  the  abject  cob- 
bler that  sits  under  the  stall  ?  Content  dwells  with 
those  that  are  out  of  the  eye  of  the  world,  whom  she 
hath  never  trained  with  her  gauds,  her  toils,  her 
lures.  Wealth  is  like  learning,  wherein  our  greater 
knowledge  is  only  a  larger  sight  of  our  wants.  De- 
sires fulfilled,  teach  us  to  desire  more ;  so  we  that  at 
first  were  pleased,  by  removing  from  that,  are  now 
grown  insatiable." 

Let  any  person  go  along  the  street  and  see  how 
few  people  there  are  whose  faces  look  as  though  any 
joy  had  come  down  and  sung  in  their   souls.     We 
can  see  lines  of  thought,  and  of  care,  and  of  fear,— 
money  lines,  shrewd,  grasping   lines, — but  how   few 


604  A    SUNNY    DISPOSITION. 

happy  lines  !  The  rarest  feeling  that  ever  lights  the 
human  face,  is  the  contentment  of  a  loving  soul. 
There  are  a  hundred  successful  men  where  there  is 
one  contented  man.  We  can  find  a  score  of  hand- 
some faces  where  we  can  find  one  happy  face.  An 
eccentric  wealthy  gentleman  stuck  up  a  board  in  a 
field  upon  his  estate,  upon  which  was  painted  the  fol- 
lowing :  "  I  will  give  this  field  to  any  contented 
man.'  He  soon  had  an  applicant.  "  Well,  sir;  are 
you  a  contented  man?"  "Yes  sir;  very."  "Then 
what  do  you  want  of  my  field?"  The  applicant  did 
not  stop  to  reply. 

Happiness  often  consists  not  so  much  in  adding 
more  fuel,  as  in  taking  away  some  fire ;  not  in  multi- 
plying wealth,  as  in  subtracting  men's  desires. 
Wishes  are  as  prolific  as  rabbits.  One  imaginary 
want,  like  a  stool-pigeon,  brings  flocks  of  others,  and 
the  mind  becomes  so  overwhelmed,  that  it  loses 
sight  of  all  the  real  comforts  in  possession. 

When  Alexander  saw  Diogenes  sitting  in  the  warm 
sun,  and  asked  what  he  should  do  for  him,  he  de- 
sired no  more  than  that  Alexander  would  stand  out 
of  his  sunshine,  and  not  take  from  him  what  he  could 
not  give.  A  quiet  and  contented  mind  is  the  su- 
preme good ;  it  is  the  utmost  felicity  a  man  is 
capable  of  in  this  world ;  and  the  maintaining  of 
such  an  uninterrupted  tranquility  of  spirit  is  the  very 
crown  and  glory  of  wisdom  and  joy.  Many  people 
who  are  surrounded  by  all  the  substantial  comforts 
of  life,  become  discontented  because  some  wealthier 
neighbor  sports  a  carriage,  and  his  lady  a  Brussels 
carpet  and  mahogany  chairs,  entertains  parties,  and 
makes  more  show  in  the  world  than  they.  Like  the 


KINDNESS.  605 

monkey,  they  attempt  to  imitate  all  they  see  that  is 
deemed  fashionable  ;  make  a  dash  at  greater  content- 
ment ;  dash  out  their  comfortable  store  of  wealth ; 
and  sometimes,  determined  on  quiet  at  last,  close  the 
farce  with  a  tragedy. 

A  cheerful  and  sunny  disposition  is  equally  inspir- 
ing, rich,  and  beneficent.  It  encourages  all  things 
good,  great,  noble.  It  whispers  liberty  to  the 
slave,  freedom  to  the  captive,  health  to  the  sick, 
home  to  the  wandering,  friends  to  the  forsaken, 
peace  to  the  troubled,  supplies  to  the  needy,  bread 
to  the  hungry,  strength  to  the  weak,  rest  to  the 
weary,  life  to  the  dying.  It  has  sunshine  in  its  eye, 
encouragement  on  its  tongue,  and  inspiration  in  its 
hand.  Rich  and  glorious  is  it,  and  faithfully  should 
it  be  cultivated.  Let  its  inspiring  influence  be  in  the 
heart  of  every  youth.  It  will  give  strength  and 
courage.  Let  its  cheerful  words  fall  ever  from  his 
tongue,  and  its  bright  smile  play  ever  on  his  counte- 
nance. Entertain  well  this  nymph  of  goodness.  Cul- 
tivate well  this  ever-shining  flower  of  the  spirit.  It 
is  the  evergreen  of  life,  that  grows  at  the  eastern 
gate  of  the  soul's  garden. 

KINDNESS 

A  kind  word  and  a  pleasant  voice,  growing  out  of 
a  cheerful  and  sunny  heart,  are  gifts  easy  to  give,  but 
they  are  worth  more  than  money.  Kindness  makes 
sunshine  wherever  it  goes ;  it  finds  its  way  into  hid- 
den chambers  of  the  heart,  and  brings  golden  treas- 
ures ;  harshness,  on  the  contrary,  seals  them  up 
forever  Kindness  makes  the  mother's  lullaby 


6o6 


KINDNESS. 


sweeter  than  the  song  of  the  lark,  the  care-laden 
brow  of  the  father  and  man  of  business  less  severe 
in  their  expression.  Kindness  is  the  real  law  of  life, 
the  link  that  connects  earth  with  heaven,  the  true 
philosopher's  stone,  for  all  it  touches  it  turns  to  vir- 
gin gold  ;  the  true  gold  wherewith  we  purchase  con- 
tentment, peace,  and  love.  Write  your  name  with 
kindness,  love  and  mercy,  on  the  hearts  of  the  people 
you  come  in  contact  with  year  by  year,  and  you  will 
never  be  forgotten. 

How  sweet  are  the  offices  of  kindness.  How 
balmy  the  influence  of  that  regard  which  dwells 
around  the  fireside,  where  virtue  lives  for  its  own 
sake,  and  fidelity  regulates  and  restrains  the  thirst  for 
admiration,  often  a  more  potent  foe  to  virtue  than 
the  fiercest  lust ;  where  distrust  and  doubt  dim  not 
the  luster  of  purity,  and  where  solicitude,  except  for 
the  preservation  of  an  unshaken  confidence,  has  no 
place,  and  the  gleam  of  suspicion  or  jealousy  never 
disturbs  the  harmony  and  tranquility  of  the  scene ; 
where  paternal  kindness  and  devoted  filial  affection 
blossom  in  all  the  freshness  of  eternal  spring  ! 

In  all  social  life  it  is  by  the  little  acts  of  watchful 
regard,  by  words,  and  tones,  and  gestures,  and  looks, 
that  true  affection  is  won  and  preserved.  He  who 
neglects  these  trifles,  yet  boasts  that,  whenever  a 
great  sacrifice  is  called  for,  he  will  be  ready  to  make 
it,  will  rarely  be  loved.  The  likelihood  is,  he  will  not 
make  it ;  and  if  he  does,  it  will  be  far  rather  for 
his  own  sake  than  for  his  neighbor's.  Give  no  pain. 
Breathe  not  a  sentiment,  say  not  a  word,  give  not  the 
expression  of  the  countenance  that  will  offend  an- 
other, or  send  a  thrill  of  pain  to  his  bosom.  We  are 


39 


KINDNESS.  607 

surrounded  by  sensitive  hearts  which  a  word  or  look 
even,  might  fill  to  the  brim  with  sorrow.  If  you 
are  careless  of  the  opinions  of  others,  remember  that 
they  are  differently  constituted  from  yourself,  and 
never,  by  word  or  sign,  cast  a  shadow  on  a  happy 
heart,  or  throw  aside  the  smiles  of  joy  that  linger  on 
a  pleasant  countenance. 

Many  lose  the  opportunity  of  saying  a  kind  thing 
by  waiting  to  weigh  the  matter  too  long.  Our  best 
impulses  are  too  delicate  to  endure  much  handling. 
If  you  fail  to  give  them  expression  the  moment  they 
rise,  they  effervesce,  evaporate,  and  are  gone.  If 
they  do  not  turn  sour,  they  become  flat,  losing  life 
and  sparkle  by  keeping.  Speak  promptly  when  you 
feel  kindly. 

Deal  gently  with  a  stranger.  Remember  the  sev- 
ered cord  of  affection,  still  bleeding,  and  beware 
to  wound  by  a  thoughtless  act,  or  a  careless  word. 
The  stranger,  perchance,  has  lived  in  an  atmosphere 
of  love  as  warm  as  that  we  breathe.  Alone  and 
friendless  now,  he  treasures  the  image  of  loved  ones 
far  away,  and  when  gentle  words  and  warm  kisses  are 
exchanged,  we  know  not  how  his  heart  thrills,  and 
the  teardrops  start.  Speak  gently.  The  impatient 
word  our  friends  may  utter  does  not  wound,  so 
mailed  are  we  in  the  impenetrable  armor  of  love  ; 
but  keenly  is  an  unkind  remark  felt  by  the  lone  and 
friendless  one. 

Like  a  clinging  vine  torn  from  its  support,  the 
stranger's  heart  begins  to  twine  its  tendrils  around  the 
first  object  which  is  presented  to  it.  Is  love  so  cheap 
a  thing  in  this  world,  or  have  we  already  so  much,  that 
we  can  lightly  cast  off  the  instinctive  affections  thus 


608  KINDNESS. 

proffered  ?  To  some  souls  an  atmosphere  of  love  is 
as  necessary  as  the  vital  air  to  the  physical  system. 
A  person  of  such  a  nature  may  clothe  one  in  imagi- 
nation with  all  the  attributes  of  goodness,  and  make 
his  heart's  sacrifices  at  the  shrine.  Let  us  not  cruelly 
destroy  the  illusion  by  unkindness. 

Let  the  name  of  stranger  be  ever  sacred,  whether 
it  is  that  of  an  honored  guest  at  our  fireside,  or  the 
poor  servant  girl  in  our  kitchen  ;  the  gray-haired,  or 
the  young  ;  and  when  we  find  ourselves  far  from 
friends,  and  the  dear  associates  of  home,  and  so 
lonely,  may  some  kind,  some  angel-hearted  being,  by 
sympathizing  words  and  acts,  cause  our  hearts  to 
thrill  with  unspoken  gratitude,  and  thus  we  will  find 
again  the  "bread"  long  "  cast  upon  the  waters." 

Shun  evil-speaking.  Deal  tenderly  with  the  ab- 
sent ;  say  nothing  to  inflict  a  wound  on  their  reputa- 
tion. They  may  be  wrong  and  wicked,  yet  your 
knowledge  of  it  does  not  oblige  you  to  disclose  their 
character,  except  to  save  others  from  injury.  Then 
do  it  in  a  way  that  bespeaks  a  spirit  of  kindness  for 
the  absent  offender.  Be  not  hasty  to  credit  evil  re- 
ports. They  are  often  the  result  of  misunderstand- 
ing, or  of  evil  design,  or  they  proceed  from  an  exag- 
gerated or  partial  disclosure  of  facts.  Wait  and 
learn  the  whole  story  before  you  decide  ;  then  be- 
lieve just  what  evidence  compels  you  to,  and  no  more. 

Kindness  conquers  in  many  a  battle  when  every 
other  resource  fails.  A  rough-looking  man  once 
brought  his  little  boy  into  a  school,  and  gave  him 
over  into  the  care  of  the  teacher  with  these  com- 
ments :  "I  have  brought  my  boy  here  to  see  if  you 
can  do  anything  with  him.  Of  all  the  stubborn  boys 


KINDNESS.  609 

I  ever  knew,  he  is  the  worst."  As  the  teacher  was 
going  to  his  desk  one  day,  he  put  out  his  hand  to  lay 
it  kindly  on  the  boy's  shoulder,  whereupon  the  little 
fellow  shuddered,  and  shrank  away  from  his  touch. 
What  is  the  matter  ?  asked  the  teacher.  I  thought 
you  were  going  to  strike  me,  said  the  boy.  Why 
should  I  strike  you  ?  Because  I  am  so  bad,  the  boy 
answered.  Who  says  you  are  bad  ?  Father,  mother, 
and  everybody  says  so.  The  teacher  spoke  kindly  to 
the  lad,  and  told  him  he  could  be  as  good  as  any  boy, 
if  he  tried.  A  new  idea  flashed  into  the  young 
mind,  and  a  new  hope  sprang  up  in  the  little  heart. 
Can  I  be  a  good  boy  ?  Then  I  will  be  a  good  boy,  the 
little  fellow  said  to  himself.  From  that  time  a 
marked  change  came  over  his  whole  life.  He  made 
rapid  progress  in  his  studies,  secured  the  affection  of 
his  playmates,  grew  up  to  be  a  good  man,  and  be- 
came Governor  of  one  of  our  largest  States. 

Southey,  the  poet,  tells  the  following  story  of  him- 
self :  When  I  was  small,  there  was  a  black  boy  in 
the  neighborhood  whom  we  loved  to  torment  by  call- 
ing him  a  negro,  blackamoor,  and  such  like  offensive 
epithets.  The  little  fellow  appeared  excessively 
grieved,  but  said  nothing.  Soon  after,  I  went  to 
borrow  his  skates.  He  let  me  have  them  with  a 
pleasant  word  of  welcome.  When  I  returned  them, 
I  told  him  I  was  under  great  obligations  to  him  for 
his  kindness.  He  looked  up  at  me  as  he  took  his 
skates,  and  said  mournfully,  "  Robert,  don't  ever 
call  me  blackamoor  again,"  and  then  immediately  left 
the  room.  The  words  pierced  my  heart  like  an 
arrow ;  I  burst  into  tears,  and  resolved  never  to 
abuse  the  poor  black  again. 


6lO  KINDNESS. 

Instances   like  these   could   be  multiplied   by  the 
hundred,  and  they  all  go  to  show  that  it  only  needs,— 

"  Little  words  of  kindness, 

Little  deeds  of  love, 
To  make  our  world  an  Eden 
Like  to  that  above." 

Therefore,  always  cherish  like  an  apple  of  gold,  a 
bright,  sunny,  cheerful  temper  and  disposition.  It 
will  prove  under  all  conditions  of  life  a  perennial 
fountain  of  happiness. 


©  0  K  fl.  M  (D)  ©  DD. 

:  *Jj  HIGHWAY." 


BEAUTY.  6ll 


BE  A  UTY. 


•*  Give  me  a  look,  give  me  a  face 
That  makes  simplicity  a  grace; 
Robes  loosely  flowing,  hair  as  free: 
Such  sweet  neglect  more  taketh  me 
Than  all  the  adulteries  of  art 
Which  strike  the  eye,  but  not  the  heart." 

— BEN  JON  SON. 

"  What  is  beauty?     Not  the  show 
Of  shapely  limbs  and  features.     No; 
These  are  but  flowers 
That  have  their  stated  hours 
To  breathe  their  momentary  sweetness,  then  go. 
'Tis  the  stainless  soul  within 
That  outshines  the  fairest  skin." 


JEAUTY  in  man  or  woman,  but  especially 
in  the  latter,  is  a  power  and  a  possession 
not  to  be  despised.  It  contributes  an  im- 
portant quota  to  the  sum  of  human  hap- 
piness. It  is  a  positive  blessing,  when 
not  abused.  If  women  could  but  look  in- 
to the  hearts  of  men  they  would  discover  that  much 
of  the  dissatisfaction  with  wives,  much  of  the  ab- 
sence from  them  of  husbands,  much  of  the  disagree- 
able in  the  home,  results  from  indifference  to  their 
personal  appearance.  Many  ladies,  after  the  heyday 


6l2  BEAUTY. 

of  youth  is  passed,  seem  to  make  no  effort  to  set  off 
their  charms  to  the  best  advantage,  save  as  they  oc- 
casionally spur  to  some  extraordinary  display.  Often 
domestic  duties,  maternity,  and  its  cares, — always  a 
trial  to  the  nerves,  strength,  and  ambition, — exclude 
them  more  or  less  from  society  until  they  lose  all  in- 
terest, and  become  indifferent  to  its  demands.  This 
is  followed  by  inattention  to  the  person.  Even  dress 
is  neglected,  and  the  deportment  loses  the  queenly 
grace  and  gentleness  so  essential  to  lady-like  bearing. 

Others  seem  to  have  aimed  only  to  secure  a  hus- 
band. At  their  wedding  receptions,  and  earlier  at 
their  homes,  they  exhibit  rare  taste  and  culture,  are 
exquisite  in  make-up  and  brilliant  in  conversation, 
but  with  the  wane  of  the  honeymoon  they  relapse 
into  indifference,  indolence,  and  ennui,  as  if  their 
lives  had  been  strained  to  such  tension  in  the  effort 
to  catch  a  husband,  that  the  cord  was  all  but  ready  to 
snap  when  they  won  the  prize,  and  now  the  inevi- 
table reaction  seems  to  follow.  They  are  nearly 
always  en  neglige  in  the  presence  of  their  husbands  ; 
lose  all  zest  for  society,  or  on  the  other  hand  exhaust 
their  energies  to  appear  fascinating  in  company,  re- 
serving nothing  better  for  husband  and  home  than 
languid  indifference. 

Others,  still,  appear  to  believe  personal  attractive- 
ness, elaboration  in  dress,  and  gracious  manners  are 
for  those  particularly  whose  future  is  dependent  upon 
their  charms — the  young  and  gay  ;  that  polish  and 
feminine  graces,  like  perfumes  and  gems,  must  be 
reserved  for  the  circles  of  the  beau  monde;  that  the 
brush  and  chisel  of  time  should  be  allowed  to  color 
and  hack  at  pleasure;  that  the  arts  de  toilette  are  a 


BEAUTY.  613 

vulgar   deception,  and   all    attempts   to   make  them- 
selves beautiful  at  home,  are  but  waste  of  time. 

Beauty  in  woman  must  ever  be  cultivated;  by  it  she 
endears  herself  to  her  husband,  and  is  admired  by  the 
world;  without  it,  though  she  may  have  been  the  idol 
of  a  husband's  love  for  years,  and  the  mother  of  his 
children,  she  may  drive  him  to  seek  it  elsewhere.  It 
is  impossible  to  make  home  happy  while  abandoning 
all  the  little  amenities  that  come  of  culture,  ignoring 
courtesy,  dignity  and  elegance  in  the  family  circle, 
and  putting  on  those  refinements  with  the  dress  for 
social  occasions;  in  other  words,  having  two  sets  of 
manners,  one  for  home,  and  one  for  society. 

To  a  certain  degree,  it  is  a  laudable  ambition  in 
woman  to  wish  to  be  attractive.  As  God  made  her 
fair  and  comely  in  person,  so  she  should  seek  to  pre- 
serve her  charms  as  long  as  is  consistent  with  due 
attention  to  higher  duties  and  aims.  All  the  noted 
beauties  of  any  age  have  striven  hard  to  preserve 
their  loveliness.  Diana  of  Poictiers  devoted  herself 
assiduously  all  her  life  to  the  arts  of  the  toilet  and 
the  methods  which  assisted  nature,  looking  especially 
to  health,  and  was  as  charming  at  sixty  as  many  at 
thirty.  Ninon  de  1'Enclos  was  also  celebrated  for 
almost  fadeless  beauty,  so  preserving  her  beauty  of 
contour  and  freshness  of  complexion  to  extreme  old 
age  that  many  believed  she  had  discovered  the  secret 
of  perpetual  youth.  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  whose 
beauty  was  conspicuous  in  its  effects  upon  history, 
never  amid  the  shifting  and  tumultuous  scenes  about 
her,  neglected  the  details  that  lent  the  most  brilliant 
effects  to  her  beauty.  Margaret  of  Anjou  was  no  less 
devoted  to  the  preservation  of  her  personal  charms. 


614  BEAUTY. 

Beauty,  however,  will  ever  vary  according  to  age, 
place,  taste,  and  prejudice.  We  could  not  expect  all 
to  admire  the  black,  sparkling  eye,  black  hair,  and 
dark,  rich  complexion  of  Cleopatra ;  many  would  like 
the  pale,  melancholy  blonde.  No  formula  can  satisfy 
all  opinions.  To  do  this  it  would  have  to  meet  all 
the  sentiments,  passions  and  instincts  that  inspire  to 
the  worship  of  beauty.  In  youth  it  is  the  plump 
damsel,  pulsating  with  budding  womanhood,  fresh 
and  lovely  in  her  innocence,  with  waxen  complexion, 
carnation  lips  shaped  like  Cupid's  bow,  laughing 
eyes,  white  teeth  and  shapely  arms,  that  we  admire. 
In  after  years  it  is  the  matured,  self-poised  woman, 
quiet  in  repose,  with  charms  defined  and  pronounced, 
majestic  in  air  and  carriage,  serene  and  dignified  in 
deportment — a  beauty  like  that  which  Montalembert 
ascribes  to  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  the  most  beautiful 
woman  of  her  time.  He  says,  "Her  beauty  was 
regular  and  perfect,  her  entire  figure  left  no  improve- 
ment to  be  desired  in  it.  Her  complexion  was  dark 
and  clear,  her  hair  black,  her  figure  of  unrivaled  ele- 
gance and  grace,  her  walk  full  of  nobleness  and 
majesty." 

But  what  constitutes  true  beauty  in  man  or  woman, 
and  how  can  it  best  be  preserved  and  increased  ?  The 
most  common  method  employed  is  to  make  a  liberal 
use  of  brush,  powder,  pencil,  etc.  But  beauty  which 
is  only  surface  deep  is  liable  to  prove  as  evanescent 
as  the  passing  cloud.  We  shall  not  go,  however^ 
into  the  mysteries  of  the  toilet  here,  or  stop  to  con- 
sider definitely  the  value  of  cosmetics  and  rouges. 
There  are  some  legitimate  aids  to  natural  forces  in 
this  matter,  and  these  can  be  sought  out  and  applied 


BEAUTY.  615 

at  leisure.  But  real,  enduring  beauty  of  face  or 
person  must  come  not  from  any  external  applications, 
but  from  within.  Good  health,  proper  habits,  regular 
exercise,  diet  and  dress,  all  have  more  or  less  to  do 
with  it,  but  the  main  source  of  beauty  is  in  the  mind. 

The  intellectual  powers,  when  regularly  trained 
and  employed,  cut  and  chisel  the  features  into  pro- 
portion and  grace  by  removing  from  them  all  signs 
of  sensuality  and  sloth  by  which  they  are  blunted  and 
deadened,  and  substituting  energy  and  intensity  for 
vacancy  and  insipidity  (by  which  alone  the  faces  of 
many  fair  women  are  utterly  spoiled  and  rendered 
valueless),  and  by  the  keenness  given  to  the  eye,  and 
the  fine  moulding  and  development  of  the  brow. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  the  highest  style  of 
beauty  to  be  found  in  nature  pertains  to  the  human 
form,  as  animated  and  lighted  up  by  the  intelligence 
within.  It  is  the  expression  of  the  soul  that  consti- 
tutes this  superior  beauty.  It  is  that  which  looks 
out  at  the  eye,  which  sits  in  calm  majesty  on  the 
brow,  lurks  on  the  lips,  smiles  on  the  cheek,  is  set 
forth  in  the  chiseled  lines  and  features  of  the  coun- 
tenance, in  the  general  contour  of  figure  and  form,  in 
the  movement,  and  gesture,  and  tone ;  it  is  this  look- 
ing out  of  the  invisible  spirit  that  dwells  within,  this 
manifestation  of  the  higher  nature,  that  we  admire 
and  love  ;  this  constitutes  to  us  the  beauty  of  our 
species. 

Hence  it  is  that  certain  features,  not  in  themselves 
particularly  attractive,  wanting,  it  may  be,  in  certain 
regularity  of  outline,  or  in  certain  delicacy  and  soft- 
ness, are  still  invested  with  a  peculiar  charm  and 
radiance  of  beauty  from  their  peculiar  expressiveness 


6l6  BEAUTY. 

and  animation.  The  light  of  genius,  the  superior 
glow  of  sympathy,  and  a  noble  heart,  play  upon  those 
plain,  and  it  may  be,  homely  features,  and  light  them 
up  with  a  brilliant  and  regal  beauty.  These,  as  every 
artist  knows,  are  the  most  difficult  to  portray.  The 
expression  changes  with  the  instant.  Beauty  flashes 
and  is  gone,  or  gives  place  to  a  still  higher  beauty, 
as  the  light  that  plays  in  fitful  corruscations  along 
the  northern  sky,  coming  and  going,  but  never  still. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  moral  and  social  feelings 
of  the  heart.  Love  is  a  great  beautifier  of  the  face. 
The  emotions  which  do  most  disfigure  the  counte- 
nance are  pride,  sensuality,  fear,  cruelty,  agitation, 
enmity,  cunning,  deceit,  anger.  While  on  the  other 
hand  the  great  moral  and  social  beautifiers  are  self-com- 
mand, unagitated  trust,  deep-looking  love,  faith,  and 
goodness.  In  fact,  all  virtues  impress  fairness  upon 
the  features,  and  exercise  an  influence  upon  the 
whole  person.  Even  movement  and  gestures,  how- 
ever slight,  are  different  in  their  modes  according  to 
the  mind  that  governs  them,  and  on  the  gentleness 
and  decision  of  just  feeling  there  follows  a  grace  of 
action,  and  through  continuance  of  this  a  grace  of 
form,  which  by  no  discipline  may  be  taught  or  attained. 

This  kind  of  beauty  perishes  not.  It  wreaths  the 
countenance  of  every  doer  of  good.  It  adorns  every 
honest  face.  It  shines  in  the  virtuous  life.  It  moulds 
the  hands  of  charity.  *  It  sweetens  the  voice  of  sym- 
pathy. It  sparkles  on  the  brow  of  wisdom.  It 
flashes  in  the  eye  of  love.  It  breathes  in  the  spirit  of 
piety.  It  is  the  beauty  of  the  heaven  of  heavens. 
It  is  that  which  may  grow  by  the  hand  of  culture  in 
every  human  soul.  It  is  the  flower  of  the  spirit  which 


BEAUTY.  6i; 

blossoms  on  the  tree  of  life.  Every  soul  may  plant 
and  nurture  it  in  its  own  garden.  This  is  the  capacity 
for  beauty  that  God  has  placed  within  the  reach  of 
all.  Though  our  forms  may  be  uncomely,  and  our 
features  not  the  prettiest,  our  spirits  may  be  beauti- 
ful. And  this  inward  beauty  always  shines  through. 
A  beautiful  heart  will  flash  out  in  the  eye.  A  lovely 
soul  will  glow  in  the  face.  A  sweet  spirit  will  tune 
the  voice,  and  wreath  the  countenance  in  charms. 
There  is  a  power  in  interior  beauty  that  melts  the 
hardest  heart.  As  N.  P.  Willis  has  truly  said  : 

Beauty  may  stain 

The  eye  with  a  celestial  blue — the  cheek 
With  carmine  of  the  sunset;  she  may  breathe 
Grace  into  every  motion,  like  the  play 
Of  the  least  visible  tissue  of  a  cloud ; 
She  may  give  all  that  is  within  her  own 
Bright  cestus — and  one  glance  of  intellect, 
Like  stronger  magic,  will  outshine  it  all. 

Therefore  Mrs.  Osgood  gives  the  following  perti- 
nent advice : 

The  blush  will  fade, 

The  light  grow  dim  which  the  blue  eyes  wear, 
The  gloss  will  vanish  from  curl  and  braid, 
And  the  sunbeam  die  in  the  waving  hair. 
Turn  from  the  mirror  and  strive  to  win 
Treasures  of  loveliness  which  will  last; 
Gather  earth's  glory  and  bloom  within, 
That  the  soul  may  be  young  when  youth  is  past. 


6l8  DECORUM    AND  DRESS. 


DECORUM  AND  DRESS. 


Study  with  care  politeness  that  must  teach 
The  proper  forms  of  gesture  and  of  speech; 
That  moves  with  easy,  though  with  measured  pace, 
And  shows  no  part  of  study  but  the  grace. 

— STILLINGFLEET. 


What's  a  fine  person  or  a  beauteous  face, 
Unless  deportment  gives  them  decent  grace? 
Blessed  with  all  other  requisites  to  please, 
We  still  do  need  the  elegance  of  ease. 

— CHURCHILL. 


iHAT  beauty  is  to  the  person,  that  de- 
corum or  politeness  is  to  the  intercourse 
of  social  life.  And  just  as  a  beautiful 
form  and  face  add  attractiveness  and 
convey  pleasure  to  the  home  circle,  or 
to  the  social  gathering,  so  elegant  manners  adorn  and 
make  agreeable  the  whole  round  of  human  compan- 
ionship, whether  existing  in  business,  social,  or  reli- 
gious life.  General  amiability,  as  has  been  well  said, 
will  oil  the  creaking  wheels  of  life  more  effectually 
than  any  unguents  which  can  be  supplied  by  mere 
wealth  or  station. 

Chesterfield  says:  "  As  learning,  honor,  and  virtue 
are  absolutely  necessary  to  gain  you  the  esteem  and 


DECORUM    AND    DRESS.  619 

admiration  of  mankind,  politeness  and  good  breeding 
are  equally  necessary  to  make  you  welcome  and  agree- 
able in  conversation  and  common  life.  Great  talents, 
such  as  honor,  virtue,  learning  and  arts,  are  above  the 
generality  of  the  world,  who  neither  possess  them 
themselves  nor  judge  them  rightly  in  others.  But  all 
people  are  judges  of  the  lesser  talent,  such  as  civility, 
affability,  and  an  obliging,  agreeable  address  and 
manner,  because  they  feel  the  good  effects  of  them  as 
making  society  easy  and  pleasing." 

As  a  beautiful  picture  displays  the  art  of  the 
painter,  and  inspiring  music  that  of  the  musician,  so 
deportment  is  the  art  of  the  lady  or  gentleman. 
Good  nature  is  often  vulgar,  blunt  and  offensive,  good 
breeding  refines,  tones  and  finishes  manner.  Deport- 
ment, therefore,  belongs  to  culture.  Human  nature 
in  general  is  groveling  ;  gentility  of  deportment  is  ele- 
vating. To  act  naturally  is  commendable,  if  nature 
be  toned  by  culture ;  to  act  naturally  without  refine- 
ment, is  to  act  the  boor.  To  be  a  true  lady  or  gentle- 
man, therefore,  is  to  curb  and  mould  our  natural 
impulses,  encourage  our  better  promptings,  associate 
only  with  the  pure  and  refined,  accustom  ourselves  to 
doing  everything  decently,  orderly  and  elegantly  at 
all  times,  regarding  the  feelings  of  others,  respecting 
ourselves,  and  allowing  nothing  to  disturb  a  court- 
eous, dignified  behavior.  Etiquette  is  simply  decorum 
or  manners  systematized  and  adapted  to  the  various 
phases  of  social  intercourse,  recognized  and  established 
by  fashionable  usage. 

In  every  sense,  the  subject  of  manners,  says  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson,  has  a  constant  interest  to  thought- 
ful persons.  Who  does  not  delight  in  fine  manners  ? 


62O  DECORUM    AND    DRESS. 

Their  charm  cannot  be  predicted  or  overstated.  'Tis 
perpetual  promise  of  more  than  can  be  fulfilled.  It 
is  music  and  sculpture  and  pictures  to  many  who  do 
not  pretend  to  appreciation  of  those  arts.  It  is  even, 
true  that  grace  is  more  beautiful  than  beauty.  Yet 
how  impossible  to  overcome  the  obstacle  of  an  un- 
lucky temperament,  and  acquire  good  manners,  unless 
by  living  with  the  well-bred  from  the  start ;  and  this 
makes  the  value  of  wise  forethought  to  give  ourselves 
and  our  children  as  much  as  possible  the  habit  of 
cultivated  society. 

'Tis  an  inestimable  hint  that  we  owe  to  a  few  per- 
sons of  fine  manners,  that  they  make  behavior  the 
very  first  sign  of  force, — behavior,  and  not  perform- 
ance, or  talent,  or  much  less,  wealth.  While  almost 
everybody  has  a  supplicating  eye  turned  on  events 
and  things  and  other  persons,  a  few  natures  are  cen- 
tral and  forever  unfold,  and  these  alone  charm  us. 
He  whose  word  or  deed  you  cannot  predict,  who 
answers  you  without  any  supplication  in  his  eye,  who 
draws  his  determination  from  within,  and  d.  -.ws  it 
instantly, — that  man  rules. 

Manners  are  stronger  than  laws.  Nature  values 
manners.  Who  teaches  manners  of  majesty,  of 
frankness,  of  grace,  of  humility, — who  but  the  ador- 
ing aunts  and  cousins  that  surround  a  young  child  ? 
The  babe  meets  such  courting  and  flattery  as  only 
kings  receive  when  adult ;  and,  trying  experiments, 
and  at  perfect  leisure  with  these  posture  masters  and 
flatterers  all  day,  he  throws  himself  into  all  the  atti- 
tudes that  correspond  to  theirs.  Are  they  humble  ? 
he  is  composed.  Are  they  eager  ?  he  is  nonchalant. 
Are  they  encroaching  ?  he  is  dignified  and  inexorable- 


AWKWARDNESS.  621 

And  this  scene  is  daily  repeated  in  hovels  as  well  as 
in  high  houses. 

A  WKWARDNESS. 

Nature  is  the  best  posture-master.  An  awkward 
man  is  graceful  when  asleep,  or  when  hard  at  work, 
or  agreeably  amused.  The  attitudes  of  children  are 
gentle,  persuasive,  royal,  in  their  games,  and  in  their 
house-talk  and  in  the  street,  before  they  have  learned 
to  cringe.  'Tis  impossible  but  thought  will  dispose 
the  limbs  and  the  walk.  No  art  can  contravene  it, 
or  conceal  it.  Give  me  a  thought,  and  my  hands  and 
legs  and  voice  and  face  will  all  go  right.  And  we 
are  awkward  for  want  of  thought.  The  inspiration 
is  scanty,  and  does  not  arrive  at  the  extremities. 

Manners  are  the  revealers  of  secrets,  the  betrayers 
of  any  disproportion  or  want  of  symmetry  in  mind 
and  character.  It  is  the  law  of  our  constitution  that 
every  change  in  our  experience  instantly  indicates 
itself  on  our  countenance  and  carriage,  as  the  lapse 
of  time  tells  itself  on  the  face  of  the  clock.  We  may 
be  too  obtuse  to  read  it,  but  the  record  is  there ;  some 
men  may  be  too  obtuse  to  read  it,  but  some  men  are 
not  obtuse,  and  do  read  it.  Nature  made  us  all  cogni- 
zant of  these  signs,  for  our  safety  and  our  happiness. 
While  certain  faces  are  illuminated  with  intelligence, 
decorated  with  invitation,  others  are  marked  with 
warnings ;  certain  voices  are  hoarse  and  truculent ; 
sometimes  they  even  bark.  There  is  the  same  differ- 
ence between  heavy  and  genial  manners  as  between 
the  perceptions  of  octogenarians  and  those  of  young 
girls  who  see  everything  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

The   world   sets   large   store    by   the   exterior   of 


622  AWKWARDNESS. 

people.  It  cannot  always  stop  to  examine  into  their 
morals,  education,  or  positive  merit ;  but  whatever 
may  be  the  standard  of  appreciation,  there  are  very 
few  who  can  say  they  do  not  court  the  world's  good 
graces.  With  the  wisdom  of  Solomon,  the  virtue  of 
Caesar's  wife,  the  piety  of  Fenelon,  the  wealth  of  a 
Rothschild,  without  a  knowledge  of  how  to  please, 
we  have  no  fixed  place  in  the  popular  heart.  How 
to  please,  then,  embodies  much.  We  cannot  ignore 
regulations  imposed  by  polite  society,  and  still  expect 
to  please,  for  polite  society  rules  the  world. 

First,  then,  we  must  question  ourselves  concerning 
our  natural  instincts ;  are  they  coarse,  selfish,  over- 
bearing, unforgiving,  dishonest ;  have  we  bad  tempers; 
are  we  suspicious  and  fault-finding  ;  are  we  inclined  to 
make  ourselves  miserable  as  well  as  those  we  meet? 
It  should  be  our  first  effort  to  subdue  such  qualities, 
for  any  exhibition  of  them  is  fatal  to  harmony. 

Almost  the  first  requisite  to  a  lady  is  good  com- 
mon sense.  While  this  admits  of  piquancy,  naivete, 
and  all  the  charming  femininities,  as  well  as  dignity, 
it  is  also  a  host  arrayed  in  her  favor.  Affability,  a 
sweet  temper  under  all  circumstances,  a  manner  mild, 
yet  firm,  a  sensitive  and  delicate  temperament,  yet 
without  too  evident  self  consciousness  and  prudish- 
ness  of  disposition,  are  admirable  qualities.  You  can- 
not please  without  being  truly  polite,  and  to  this  end 
amiability  and  good  nature  are  necessary. 

True  politeness  comes  from  a  knowledge  ot  our- 
selves and  respect  for  others,  and  constitutes  pro- 
priety of  deportment  coupled  with  good  nature  and  a 
desire  to  please.  Neither  rank,  beauty,  wealth,  tal- 
ents nor  position  can  dispense  with  it.  It  enters  into 


SELF-COMMAND.  623 

every  feature  of  social  intercourse,  and  it  is  here  you 
are  measured,  weighed,  and  stamped.  It  is  here  that 
your  true  culture  will  assert  itself.  To  avoid  this, 
you  must  not  have  two  sets  of  manners,  one  for  home 
and  another  for  society.  The  same  deference  to 
others,  the  same  graces  of  deportment  and  geniality, 
must  at  all  times  characterize  you.  You  cannot  eat 
improperly,  or  indulge  in  slang  or  bad  grammar  at 
home  without  the  habit  betraying  you  when  you  will 
regret  it  sorely. 

SELF-COMMAND. 

Life  is  not  so  short  but  that  there  is  always  time 
enough  for  courtesy.  Self-command  is  the  main  ele- 
gance. "Keep  cool,  and  you  command  everybody," 
said  St.  Just;  and  the -wily  old  Talleyrand  would  still 
say,  "Above  all,  gentlemen,  no  heat."  'Tis  a  rule  of 
manners  to  avoid  exaggeration.  A  lady  loses  as  soon 
as  she  admires  too  easily  and  too  much.  In  man  or 
woman,  the  face  and  the  person  lose  power  when  they 
are  on  the  strain  to  express  admiration.  A  man  makes 
his  inferiors  his  superiors  by  heat.  Why  need  you, 
who  are  not  a  gossip,  talk  as  a  gossip,  and  tell  eagerly 
what  the  neighbors  or  the  journals  say?  State  your 
opinion  without  apology.  The  attitude  is  the  main 
point,  assuring  your  companion  that,  come  good  news 
or  come  bad,  you  remain  in  good  heart  and  good 
mind,  which  is  the  best  news  you  can  possibly  com- 
municate. Self-control  is  the  rule.  You  have  in  you 
there  a  noisy,  sensual  savage  which  you  are  to  keep 
down,  and  tune  all  his  strength  to  beauty. 

Show  a  proper  respect  for  the  opinions  of  others, 


624  BRILLIANT    TALKERS. 

and  be  firm,  yet  modest,  in  the  assertion  of  your  own. 
Always  display  that  self-consciousness  which  one 
should  feel,  that  you  are  as  good  as  others,  and 
demand  equal  respect.  If  you  do  not  respect  your- 
self, others  will  not  respect  you.  Very  many  are 
afflicted  with  over-sensitiveness,  a  feeling  of  infer- 
iority, which  is  liable,  if  not  overcome,  to  render  one 
ridiculous  at  times.  More  offensive  are  they  who 
seek  to  convey  the  impression  that  they  "know  it 
all."  This  betrays  ignorance,  conceit,  and  immodesty. 
Never  exhibit  vulgarity  in  action  or  expression. 
Rude  conduct,  awkward  motions  and  positions,  in- 
dicate either  a  lack  of  respect  for  others,  or  that  your 
associations  are  low. 

Exercise  a  due  regard  for  all  little  courtesies  and 
elegancies.  In  your  association  with  the  opposite 
sex,  let  these  never  be  neglected.  Do  not  hurry. 
Promptness  and  due  haste  are  proper,  but  hurry  and 
bluster  tend  to  confusion  and  irritation,  and  things 
thus  done  were  better  not  attempted.  Remember, 
your  manners  are  the  sign  by  which  your  status  is 
fixed ;  they  are  ever  open  to  criticism,  and  always  de- 
termine your  caste.  You  should  take  care  that  the 
first  impressions  be  favorable.  In  the  drawing  room, 
at  table,  at  the  party  or  ball,  on  the  street,  every- 
where, you  should  be  impressed  with  the  fact  that 
you  are  to  be  respected  as  a  lady  or  gentleman,  and 
that  as  such  you  respect  others,  and  treat  them 
accordingly. 

BRILLIANT  TALKERS. 

Among  the  most  brilliant  and  serviceable  social 
accomplishments  is  the  art  of  holding  agreeable  and 


BRILLIANT    TALKERS.  625 

wise  conversation.  The  ability  to  talk  intelligently, 
wittily  and  well,  is  not  possessed  by  all.  Society  to- 
day seems  sadly  wanting  in  brilliant  talkers.  We 
have  a  few  good  conversationalists,  but  only  a  few. 
Every  lady  should  cultivate  this  art,  and  attain  to 
such  excellence  in  it  as  she  may.  To  say  enough  and 
say  it  well,  upon  any  subject,  to  modulate  the  tones, 
to  be  ready  with  appropriate  words,  wit  and  repartee 
at  the  right  time,  uniting  the  same  with  a  fascinating 
manner,  are  social  attractions  which  come  quite  as 
much  from  cultivation  as  from  a  natural  gift. 

Madame  de  Stael,  by  the  unanimous  consent  of  all 
who  knew  her,  was  the  most  extraordinary  converser 
that  was  known  in  her  time,  and  it  was  a  time  full  of 
eminent  men  and  women ;  she  knew  all  distinguished 
persons  in  letters  or  society,  in  England,  Germany, 
and  Italy,  as  well  as  in  France,  though  she  said,  with 
characteristic  nationality,  "Conversation,  like  talent, 
exists  only  in  France."  Madame  de  Stael  valued 
nothing  but  conversation.  She  said  one  day,  se- 
riously, to  M.  Mole,  "If  it  were  not  for  respect  to 
human  opinions,  I  would  not  open  my  window  to  see 
the  Bay  of  Naples  for  the  first  time,  while  I  would 
go  five  hundred  leagues  to  talk  with  a  man  of  genius 
whom  I  had  not  seen." 

Ste.  Beuve  tells  us  of  the  privileged  circle  at 
Coppet,  that,  after  making  an  excursion  one  day,  the 
party  returned  in  two  coaches  from  Chambery  to  Aix, 
on  the  way  to  Coppet.  The  first  coach  had  many 
rueful  accidents  to  relate, — a  terrific  thunder-storm, 
shocking  roads,  and  danger  and  gloom  to  the  whole 
company.  The  party  in  the  second  coach,  on  arriv- 
ing, heard  this  story  with  surprise  ; — of  thunder-storm, 


626  BRILLIANT    TALKERS. 

of  steeps,  of  mud,  of  danger,  they  knew  nothing ;  no, 
they  had  forgotten  earth,  and  breathed  a  purer  air  ; 
such  a  conversation  between  Madame  de  Stael  and 
Madame  Recamier  and  Benjamin  Constant  and  Schle- 
gel,  they  were  all  in  a  state  of  delight.  The  intoxi- 
cation of  the  conversation  had  made  them  insensible 
to  all  notice  of  weather  or  rough  roads.  Madame  de 
Tesse  said,  "If  I  were  queen,  I  should  command 
Madame  de  Stael  to  talk  to  me  every  day."  Conver- 
sation fills  all  gaps,  supplies  all  deficiencies.  What  a 
good  trait  is  that  recorded  of  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
that,  during  dinner,  the  servant  slipped  to  her  side, 
"Please  madame,  one  anecdote  more,  for  there  is  no 
roast  to-day." 

In  conversation,  be  considerate  of  the  feelings  of 
others.  Women  are  usually  quicker  at  repartee, 
have  more  confidence,  and  not  seldom  avail  them- 
selves of  the  privileges  of  their  sex  to  "cut"  severely. 
Men  may  be  brave  and  strong,  may  have  coarse  ex- 
teriors and  manners,  and  be  unable  to  cope  in  conver- 
sation with  you,  but  remember  they  have  hearts,  and 
it  is  no  mark  of  a  true  lady  to  hurt  the  feelings  need- 
lessly of  any  one,  however  tempting  the  occasion  to 
appear  brilliant.  Men  are  peculiarly  sensitive  in  the 
presence  of  women,  and  the  more  they  admire  the 
less  they  are  able  to  display  what  gifts  they  possess. 

Have  the  courage  to  ask  questions  ;  courage  to 
expose  ignorance.  The  great  gain  is,  not  to  shine, 
not  to  conquer  your  companion, — then  you  show  noth- 
ing but  conceit, — but  to  find  a  companion  who  knows 
what  you  do  not ;  to  tilt  with  him  and  be  overthrown, 
horse  and  foot,  with  utter  destruction  of  all  your  logic 
and  learning.  There  is  a  defeat  that  is  useful. 


TABLE    ETIQUETTE.  627 

Shun  the  negative  side.  Never  worry  people  with 
your  contritions,  nor  with  dismal  views  of  politics  or 
society.  Never  name  sickness ;  even  if  you  could 
trust  yourself  on  that  perilous  topic,  beware  of  un- 
muzzling a  valetudinarian,  who  will  soon  give  you 
your  fill  of  it. 

TABLE  ETIQUETTE. 

The  law  of  the  table  is  a  respect  to  the  common 
taste  of  all  the  guests.  Everything  is  unseasonable 
which  is  private  t®  two  or  three,  or  any  portion  of  the 
company.  Tact  never  violates  for  a  moment  this 
law ;  never  intrudes  the  orders  of  the  house,  the  vices 
of  the  absent,  or  a  tariff  of  expenses,  or  professional 
privacies;  as  we  say,  we  never  "talk  shop"  before 
company.  Lovers  abstain  from  caresses,  and  haters 
from  insults,  while  they  sit  in  one  parlor  with  common 
friends. 

Stay  at  home  in  your  mind.  Don't  recite  other 
people's  opinions.  See  how  it  lies  there  in  you  ;  and 
if  there  is  no  counsel,  offer  none.  What  we  want  is 
not  simple  activity  or  interference  with  your  mind, 
but  your  ability  to  be  a  vehicle  of  the  simple  truth. 
The  way  to  have  large  occasional  views,  as  in  a  polit- 
ical or  social  crisis,  is  to  have  large  habitual  views. 
When  men  consult  you,  it  is  not  that  they  wish  you 
to  stand  tiptoe,  and  pump  your  brains,  but  to  apply 
your  usual  view,  your  wisdom,  to  the  question  in 
hand  without  pedantry. 

Let  conversation  be  adapted  skillfully  to  the  com- 
pany engaging  in  it.  Some  men  make  a  point  of 
talking  common-places  to  all  ladies  alike,  as  if  a 
woman  could  only  be  a  trifler.  Others,  on  the  con- 


628  TABLE    ETIQUETTE. 

trary,  seem  to  forget  in  what  respects  the  education  of 
a  lady  differs  from  that  of  a  gentleman,  and  commit 
the  opposite  error  of  conversing  on  topics  with  which 
ladies  are  seldom  acquainted.  A  woman  of  sense  has 
as  much  right  to  be  annoyed  by  the  one,  as  a  lady  of 
ordinary  education  by  the  other.  You  cannot  pay  a 
finer  compliment  to  a  woman  of  refinement  and  esprit 
than  by  leading  the  conversation  into  such  a  channel 
as  may  mark  your  appreciation  of  her  attainments. 

Do  not  use  a  classical  quotation  in  the  presence  of 
company  without  apologizing  for,  or  translating  it. 
Even  this  should  only  be  done  when  no  other  phrase 
would  so  aptly  express  your  meaning.  Whether  in 
the  presence  of  ladies  or  gentlemen,  much  display  of 
learning  is  pedantic,  and  out  of  place. 

Remember  that  people  take  more  interest  in  their 
own  affairs  than  in  anything  else  which  you  can  name. 
If  you  wish  your  conversation  to  be  thoroughly 
agreeable,  lead  a  mother  to  talk  of  her  children,  a 
young  lady  of  her  last  ball,  an  author  of  his  forth- 
coming book,  or  an  artist  of  his  exhibition  picture. 
Having  furnished  the  topic,  you  need  only  listen,  and 
you  are  sure  to  be  thought  not  only  agreeable,  but 
thoroughly  sensible  and  well-informed. 

There  is^a  certain  distinct  but  subdued  tone  of 
voice  which  is  peculiar  only  to  well-bred  persons.  A 
loud  voice  is  both  disagreeable  and  vulgar.  It  is 
better  to  err  by  the  use  of  too  low  than  too  loud  a 
tone.  One  can  always  tell  a  lady  by  her  voice  and 
laugh — neither  of  which  will  ever  be  loud  or  coarse, 
but  soft,  low,  and  nicely  modulated.  Shakespere's 
unfailing  taste  tells  us  that 

"A  low  voice  is  an  excellent  thing  in  woman." 


SLANG.  629 

Indeed,  the  habit  of  never  raising  the  voice  would 
tend  much  to  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  many  a 
home  ;  but  as  a  proof  of  good  breeding,  it  is  unfailing. 

SLANG. 

Remember  that  all  "  slang  "  is  vulgar.  It  has  become 
of  late  unfortunately  prevalent,  and  we  have  known 
even  ladies  pride  themselves  on  the  saucy  ease  with 
which  they  adopt  certain  cant  phrases  of  the  day. 
Such  habits  cannot  be  too  severely  reprimanded. 
They  lower  the  tone  of  society,  and  the  standard  of 
thought.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  slang 
is  in  any  way  a  substitute  for  wit. 

Long  arguments  in  general  company,  however 
entertaining  to  the  disputants,  are  tiresome  to  the  last 
degree  to  all  others.  You  should  always  endeavor  to 
prevent  the  conversation  from  dwelling  too  long  upon 
one  topic. 

Those  who  introduce  anecdotes  into  their  conver- 
sation are  warned  that  these  should  invariably  be 
" short,  witty,  eloquent,  new,  and  not  far-fetched." 
Some  persons  have  an  awkward  habit  of  repeating 
the  most  striking  parts  of  a  story,  especially  the  main 
point,  if  it  has  taken  greatly  the  first  time.  This  is 
in  very  bad  taste,  and  always  excites  disgust.  In 
most  cases,  the  story  pleased  the  first  time,  only  be- 
cause it  was  unexpected. 

Endeavor  to  possess  the  habit  of  talking  well  about 
trifles.  Be  careful  never  to  make  personal  remarks 
to  a  stranger  on  any  of  the  guests  present;  it  is  pos- 
sible, nay  probable,  that  they  may  be  relatives,  or  at 
least  friends. 


630  PROFANITY. 

Slang  sits  with  poor  grace  upon  the  lips  of  a  lady ; 
from  her  we  expect,  nay,  demand,  that  correctness  of 
expression  which  not  only  serves  as  a  model,  but  will 
entitle  her  to  the  respect  of  that  sex  which  looks  to 
find  in  woman  something  better  than  they  themselves 
have.  Slang  is  immodest ;  therefore,  avoid  it. 

PROFANITY. 

A  gentleman  should  never  permit  any  phrase  that 
approaches  an  oath,  to  escape  his  lips.  If  any  man 
employs  a  profane  expression  in  the  drawing-room, 
his  pretensions  to  good-breeding  are  gone  forever. 
The  same  reason  extends  to  the  society  of  men  ad- 
vanced in  life ;  and  he  would  be  singularly  defective 
in  good  taste,  who  should  swear  before  old  persons, 
however  irreligious  their  own  habits  might  be. 

Listening  is  not  only  a  point  of  good-breeding  and 
the  best  kind  of  flattery,  but  it  is  a  method  of  acquir- 
ing information  which  no  man  of  judgment  will  neg- 
lect. "This  is  a  common  vice  in  conversation,"  says 
Montaigne,  "that  instead  of  gathering  observations 
from  others,  we  make  it  our  whole  business  to  lay 
ourselves  open  to  them,  and  are  more  concerned  how 
to  expose  and  set-out  our  own  commodities,  than  how 
to  increase  our  stock  by  acquiring  new.  Silence  there- 
fore, and  modesty,  are  very  advantageous  qualities  in 
conversation." 

The  interjection  of  such  phrases  as,  "You  know," 
"You  see,"  "Don't  you  see?"  "Do  you  understand?" 
and  similar  ones  that  stimulate  the  attention,  and 
demand  an  answer,  ought  to  be  avoided.  Make  your 
observations  in  a  calm  and  sedate  way,  which  your 


PROFANITY.  631 

companion  may  attend  to  or  not,  as  he  pleases,  and 
let  them  go  for  what  they  are  worth. 

To  avoid  wounding  the  feelings  of  another,  is  the 
key  to  almost  every  problem  of  manners  that  can  be 
proposed ;  and  he  who  will  always  regulate  his  say- 
ings and  doings  by  that  principle,  may  chance  to 
break  some  conventional  rule,  but  will  rarely  violate 
any  of  the  essentials  of  good-breeding.  Judgment 
and  attention  are  as  necessary  to  fulfill  this  precept  as 
the  disposition ;  for  by  inadvertence  or  folly  as  much 
pain  may  be  given,  as  by  designed  malevolence. 
Those  who  scatter  brilliant  jibes  without  caring  whom 
they  wound,  are  as  unwise  as  they  are  unkind.  Those 
sharp  little  sarcasms  that  bear  a  sting  in  their  words, 
rankle  long,  sometimes  forever  in  the  mind,  and  fester 
often  into  a  bitter  hatred  never  to  be  abated. 

When  a  man  goes  into  company,  he  should  leave 
behind  him  all  peculiarities  of  mind  and  manners. 
That,  indeed,  constituted  Dr.  Johnson's  notion  of  a 
gentleman  ;  and  as  far  as  negatives  go,  the  notion 
was  correct.  It  is  in  particularly  bad  taste  to  employ 
technical  or  professional  terms  in  general  conversa- 
tion. Young  physicians  and  lawyers  often  commit 
that  error.  The  most  eminent  members  of  those 
occupations  are  the  most  free  from  it ;  for  the  reason, 
that  the  most  eminent  have  the  most  sense. 

The  foregoing  rules  are  not  simply  intended  as 
good  advice.  They  are  strict  laws  of  etiquette,  to 
violate  any  one  of  which  justly  subjects  a  person  to 
the  imputation  of  being  ill-bred.  But  they  should  not 
be  studied  as  mere  arbitrary  rules.  The  heart  should 
be  cultivated  in  the  right  manner  until  the  acts  of  the 
individual  spontaneously  flow  in  the  right  channels. 


632  DRESS. 

A  recent  writer  remarks  on  this  subject  :  "  Conver- 
sation is  a  reflex  of  character.  The  pretentious,  the 
illiterate,  the  impatient,  the  curious,  will  as  inevitably 
betray  their  idiosyncrasies  as  the  modest,  the  even- 
tempered  and  the  generous.  Strive  as  we  may,  we 
cannot  always  be  acting.  Let  us,  therefore,  cultivate 
a  tone  of  mind  and  a  habit  of  life  the  betrayal  of 
which  need  not  put  us  to  shame  in  the  company  of 
the  pure  and  wise;  and  the  rest  will  be  easy." 


Intimately  connected  with  a  proper  decorum  is  the 
matter  of  dress.  But  on  this  subject,  so  extensive  in 
itself  and  so  infinitely  complicated,  we  can  only  give 
some  general  hints.  As  first  impressions  are  apt  to 
be  permanent,  it  is  of  great  importance  that  they 
should  be  favorable  ;  and  the  dress  of  an  individual 
is  that  circumstance  from  which  you  first  form  your 
opinion  of  him.  It  is  even  more  prominent  than 
manner.  It  is,  indeed,  the  only  thing  which  is  re- 
marked in  a  casual  encounter,  or  during  the  first 
interview. 

What  style  is  to  our  thoughts,  dress  is  to  our  per- 
sons. It  may  supply  the  place  of  more  solid  qualities, 
and  without  it  the  most  solid  are  of  little  avail.  Num- 
bers have  owed  their  elevation  to  their  attention  to 
the  toilet.  Place,  fortune,  marriage,  have  all  been  lost 
by  neglecting  it. 

Dress  should  always  be  consistent  with  age  and 
natural  exterior.  That  which  looks  ill  on  one  person, 
will  be  agreeable  on  another.  Some  ladies,  perhaps 
imagining  that  they  are  deficient  in  personal  charms, 


DRESS.  633 

endeavor  to  make  their  clothes  the  spell  of  their 
attraction.  With  this  end  in  view,  they  labor  by 
lavish  expenditure  to  supply  in  expensive  adornment 
what  they  lack  in  beauty  of  form  or  feature.  Un- 
fortunately for  their  success,  elegant  dressing  does  not 
depend  upon  expense.  A  lady  might  wear  the  cost- 
liest silks  that  Italy  could  produce,  adorn  herself  with 
laces  from  Brussels  which  years  of  patient  toil  are 
required  to  fabricate  ;  she  might  carry  the  jewels  of 
an  Eastern  princess  around  her  neck,  and  upon  her 
wrists  and  fingers,  yet  still,  in  appearance,  be  essen- 
tially vulgar.  These  were  as  nothing  without  grace, 
without  adaptation,  without  a  harmonious  blending 
of  colors,  without  the  exercise  of  discrimination  and 
good  taste. 

The  most  appropriate  and  becoming  dress  is  that 
which  so  harmonizes  with  the  figure  as  to  make  the 
apparel  unobserved.  When  any  particular  portion 
of  it  excites  the  attention,  there  is  a  defect,  for  the 
details  should  not  present  themselves  first,  but  the 
result  of  perfect  dressing  should  be  an  elegant  whole, 
the  dress  commanding  no  especial  regard.  Men  are 
but  indifferent  judges  of  the  material  of  a  lady's 
dress  ;  in  fact,  they  care  nothing  about  the  matter. 
A  modest  countenance  and  pleasing  figure,  habited 
in  an  inexpensive  attire,  would  win  more  attention 
from  men,  than  awkwardness  and  effrontery  clad  in 
the  richest  satins  and  the  costliest  gems. 

Chesterfield  asserts  that  a  sympathy  goes  through 
every  action  of  our  lives,  and  that  he  could  not  help 
conceiving  some  idea  of  people's  sense  and  character 
from  the  dress  in  which  they  appeared  when  introduced 
to  him.  Another  writer  has  remarked  that  he  never 


634  USING    PAINT. 

yet  met  a  woman  whose  general  style  of  dress  was 
chaste,  elegant  and  appropriate,  that  he  did  not  find 
her  on  further  acquaintance  to  be  in  disposition  and 
mind,  an  object  to  admire  and  love. 

Lavater  has  urged  that  persons  habitually  attentive 
to  their  attire,  display  the  same  regularity  in  their 
domestic  affairs.  He  also  says :  "Young  women 
who  neglect  their  toilet  and  manifest  little  concern 
about  dress,  indicate  a  general  disregard  of  order — a 
mind  but  ill  adapted  to  the  details  of  housekeeping 
—a  deficiency  of  taste,  and  of  the  qualities  that 
inspire  love." 

USING  PAINT. 

The  practice  of  using  paint  is  a  habit  strongly  to 
be  condemned,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that 
poison  lurks  beneath  every  layer,  inducing  paralysis 
and  premature  death.  It  should  be  discarded — for 
it  is  a  disguise  which  deceives  no  one,  even  at  a 
distance  ;  there  being  a  ghastly  deathliness  in  the 
appearance  of  the  skin  after  it  has  been  painted, 
which  is  far  removed  from  the  natural  hue  of  health. 

A  lady  has  to  consider  what  colors  best  suit  her 
complexion.  Blue,  for  instance,  never  looks  well 
upon  those  of  dark  complexion ;  nor  pink  upon  those 
of  a  florid  complexion.  Yellow  is  a  very  trying  color, 
and  can  only  be  worn  by  the  rich-toned  brunettes. 
Attention  to  these  particulars  is  most  important. 

Longitudinal  stripes  in  a  lady's  dress  make  her 
appear  taller  than  she  really  is,  and  are,  therefore, 
appropriate  for  a  person  of  short  stature,  Flounces 
give  brevity  to  the  figure,  and  are  therefore  only 
adapted  to  tall  persons. 


USING    PAINT.  635 

The  dress  should  always  be  adapted  to  the  occa- 
sion. Nothing  is  more  proper  for  the  morning  than 
a  loosely  made  dress,  high  in  the  neck,  with  sleeves 
fastened  at  the  wrist  with  a  band,  and  belt.  It  looks 
well,  and  is  convenient.  For  a  walking  dress,  the 
skirt  should  be  allowed  only  to  just  touch  the  ground; 
for  while  a  train  looks  well  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
is  inconspicuous  in  a  carriage  or  opera-box,  it  serves 
a  very  ignoble  purpose  in  sv/eeping  the  street.  Ladies' 
walking  shoes  should  be  substantial  and  solid. 

Never  dress  above  your  station  ;  it  is  a  grievous 
mistake,  and  leads  to  great  evil,  besides  being  the 
proof  of  an  utter  want  of  taste.  Care  more  for  the 
nice  fitting  of  your  dress  than  for  its  material.  An 
ill-made  silk  is  not  equal  in  its  appearance  to  the 
plainest  material  well  made.  Never  appear  to  be 
thinking  about  your  dress,  but  wear  the  richest 
clothes  and  the  plainest  with  equal  simplicity.  Npth- 
ing  so  destroys  a  good  manner  as  thinking  of  what 
we  have  on. 

The  dress  for  church  should  be  plain  and  simple. 
It  should  be  of  dark,  plain  colors  for  winter,  and 
there  should  be  no  superfluous  trimmings  or  jewelry. 
It  should,  in  fact,  be  the  plainest  of  promenade- 
dresses,  since  church  is  not  the  place  for  the  display 
of  elaborate  toilets,  and  no  woman  of  consideration 
would  wish  to  make  her  own  expensive  and  showy 
toilet  an  excuse  to  another  woman,  who  could  not 
afford  to  dress  in  a  smilar  manner,  for  not  attending 
church. 

It  is  utterly  impossible  for  a  lady  to  use  either  paint 
or  powder  without  endangering  her  self-respect.  In 
the  first  place,  nearly  all  such  "  helps  to  beauty*'  are 


636 


RIDING    HABIT. 


injurious  to  the  delicate  texture  of  the  skin.  Then, 
again,  they  are  detrimental  to  real  beauty,  for  the 
whiteness  they  give  the  features  is  too  transparent  to 
deceive  any  one.  No  one  but  can  see  that  it  is  arti- 
ficial, and  the  claims  that  a  lady  may  really  possess 
to  admiration,  lose  their  power  over  the  minds  of 
those  of  the  opposite  sex,  who  hate  "  sham." 


RIDING  HABIT. 

There  is  no  place  where  a  woman  appears  to  better 
advantage  than  on  horseback.  Taking  it  for  granted 
that  our  lady  reader  has  acquired  the  art  of  riding, 
she  must  now  be  provided  with  a  suitable  habit. 
Her  habit  should  fit  perfectly  without  being  tight. 
The  skirt  should  be  full,  and  long  enough  to  cover 
the  feet,  while  it  is  best  to  omit  the  extreme  length, 
which  subjects  the  dress  to  mud-spatterings,  and  may 
prove  a  serious  entanglement  in  case  of  accident. 

Waterproof  is  the  most  serviceable  for  a  riding 
costume.  Something  lighter  may  be  worn  in  sum- 
mer. In  the  lighter  costume  a  row  or  two  of  shot 
should  be  stitched  in  the  bottom  of  the  breadths  to 
keep  the  skirt  from  blowing  up  in  the  wind. 

The  riding-dress  should  be  made  to  fit  the  waist 
closely,  and  button  nearly  to  the  throat.  Coat  sleeves 
should  come  to  the  wrist,  with  linen  cuffs  beneath 
them.  It  is  well  to  have  the  waist  attached  to  a  skirt 
of  usual  length,  and  the  long  skirt  fastened  over  it,  so 
that  if  any  mishap  obliges  the  lady  to  dismount  she 
may  easily  remove  the  long  overskirt,  and  still  be 
properly  dressed. 

The  shape  of  the  hat  will  vary  with  the  fashion, 


TRAVELING   COSTUME.  637 

but  it  should  always  be  plainly  trimmed ;  and  if 
feathers  are  worn,  they  must  be  properly  fastened  so 
that  the  wind  cannot  possibly  blow  them  over  the 
wearer's  eyes. 

All  ruffling,  puffing  or  bows  in  the  trimming  of  a 
riding-dress  is  out  of  place.  If  trimming  is  used  it 
should  be  put  on  in  perfectly  flat  bands,  or  be  of  braid- 
ing. The  hair  must  be  put  up  compactly  ;  neither 
curls  nor  veil  should  be  allowed  to  stream  in  the 
wind.  No  jewelry  except  what  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  fasten  the  dress,  and  that  of  the  plainest  kind, 
is  allowable. 

TRAVELING  COSTUME. 

There  is  no  place  where  the  true  lady  is  more 
plainly  indicated  than  in  traveling.  A  lady's  travel- 
ing costume  should  be  neat  and  pretty,  without 
superfluous  ornament  of  any  kind.  The  first  consid- 
eration in  a  traveling-dress  is  comfort ;  the  second, 
protection  from  the  dust  and  stains  of  travel.  For  a 
shoVt  journey  in  summer  a  linen  duster  may  be  put 
on  over  the  ordinary  dress  ;  in  winter  a  waterproof 
cloak  may  be  used  in  the  same  way.  But  a  lady 
making  a  long  journey  will  find  it  more  convenient 
to  have  a  traveling-suit  made  expressly.  Linen  is 
used  in  summer,  as  the  dust  is  so  easily  shaken  from 
it,  and  it  can  be  readily  washed.  In  winter,  a  water- 
proof  dress  and  sacque  are  the  most  serviceable. 

There  are  a  variety  of  materials  especially  adapted 
for  traveling  costumes,  of  soft  neutral  tints,  and 
smooth  surfaces,  which  do  not  catch  dust.  These 
should  be  made  up  plain  and  short.  The  underskirts 


638  TRAVELING    COSTUME. 

should  be  colored  woolen  in  winter,  linen  in  summer. 
Nothing  displays  vulgarity  and  want  of  breeding  so 
much  as  a  gaudy  petticoat  in  traveling. 

Gloves  should  be  of  Lisle  thread  in  summer,  and 
cloth  in  winter.  Thick  soled  boots,  stout  and  dur- 
able. The  hat  or  bonnet  should  be  neatly  trimmed, 
and  protected  by  a  large  veil.  Velvet  is  not  fit  for  a 
traveling-hat,  as  it  catches  and  retains  the  dust. 
Clean  linen  collars  and  cuffs  finish  the  costume.  The 
hair  should  be  put  up  in  the  firmest  manner  possible. 

A  waterproof  and  a  warm  woolen  shawl  are  indis- 
pensable in  traveling.  Also  a  satchel  or  basket,  in 
which  may  be  kept  a  change  of  collars,  cuffs,  gloves, 
handkerchiefs  and  toilet  articles.  A  traveling-dress 
should  be  well  supplied  with  pockets.  The  water- 
proof should  have  large  pockets  ;  so  should  the  sacque. 
In  an  underskirt  there  should  be  a  pocket  in  which 
to  carry  all  money  not  needed  for  immediate  use. 
The  latter  may  be  intrusted  to  the  ordinary  pocket, 
or  in  the  bosom  of  the  dress. 

With  this  topic,  we  close  our  treatment  of  Part  II. 
of  this  volume.  In  it  the  reader  will  find  very  few 
subjects  omitted  that  are  germane  to  its  title  and  aim, 
and  we  feel  confident  that  the  carrying  out  of  the 
suggestions  contained  therein,  would  increase  by  a 
large  measure  the  aggregate  amount  of  happiness  to 
be  legitimately  found  in  social  and  family  life. 


PART    III. 


THE  HIGHWAY  TO  ETERNAL  LIFE. 


And  an  Highway  shall  be  there,  and  it  shall  be  called  The 
way  of  Holiness;  the  unclean  shall  not  pass  over  it;  no  lion,  nor 
any  ravenous  beast  shall  go  up  thereon;  but  the  Redeemed  shall 
walk  there. 

ISAIAH  xxxv:  8,  9. 

COMPLAINT. 

44  The  way  is  long,  my  Father!  and  my  soul 
Longs  for  the  rest  and  quiet  of  the  goal: 
While  yet  I  journey  through  this  weary  land, 
Keep  me  from  wandering.     Father,  take  my  hand; 
Quickly  and  straight 
Lead  to  Heaven's  gate, 
Thy  child  !" 

ANSWER. 

44  Is  the  way  long,  my  child  ?     But  it  shall  be 
Not  one  step  longer  than  is  best  for  thee, 
And  thou  shalt  know,  at  last,  when  thou  shalt  stand 
Safe  at  the  goal,  how  I  did  take  thy  hand, 
And  quick  and  straight 
Led  to  Heaven's  gate 
My  child  !" 


[639] 


WATCHING  AND  WAITING. 


RELIGION.  641 


j 


RELIGION. 

"Divines  do  say  but  what  themselves  believe; 
Strong  proofs  they  have,  but  not  demonstrative. 
For  were  all  plain,  then  all  sides  must  agree, 
And  faith  itself  be  lost  in  certainty." 

— DRYDEN. 

[HERE  is  some  truth  in  the  thought  con- 
veyed in  these  lines.  If,  on  all  other  sub- 
jects, "  many  men  have  many  minds,"  the 
same  is  doubly  true  of  religious  subjects. 
Even  St.  Paul  acknowledges  that  "  great 
is  the  mystery  of  godliness,"  and  such  it 
surely  is.  Still,  religion  in  its  origin  and  nature  is  no 
more  mysterious  than  a  hundred  other  things  with 
•which  we  have  to  do  in  this  world,  and,  therefore,  it  is 
not  to  be  shunned  or  ignored  on  this  account. 

Besides,  whatever  men  may  say  or  think,  religion 
is  one  of  the  indisputable  facts  of  life,  and,  therefore, 
is  a  proper  object  of  study  and  investigation.  As 
the  world  in  which  we  live  is  a  fact,  so  is  God,  its 
great  Creator ;  since  it  is  absurd  to  suppose  there 
could  be  an  effect  like  this,  without  an  adequate 
cause. 

THE  EXISTENCE  OF  THE  HUMAN  SOUL. 

The  existence  of  the  human  soul  and  its  immortal 
nature  are  facts  of  which  every  one  is  conscious 


642  THE    EXISTENCE    OF    THE    HUMAN    SOUL. 

within  his  own  breast — any  amount  of  so-called  scien- 
tific supposition  or  deduction  to  the  contrary,  not- 
withstanding. There  is,  therefore,  a  future  world, 
and  a  future  life  for  the  soul  in  that  world,  the 
character  of  which  is  dependent  upon  the  life  we  now 
possess.  There  must  also  be  two  states  of  being  in 
that  future  world  corresponding  to  the  popular  ideas 
embodied  in  the  words,  heaven  and  hell.  Further- 
more, the  Christian  church  is  a  fact,  demonstrated, 
real,  tangible.  Worship  and  prayer  are  realities, 
both  to  the  soul  and  to  the  eye.  Sin  and  holiness 
are  not  only  opposite,  but  determinative  and  definite 
quantities  in  the  world.  So  are  faith  and  love,  as 
well  as  hate  and- unbelief.  THE  BIBLE,  too,  is  a  fact, 
as  well  as  a  book. 

Here  we  are,  then,  surrounded  by  a  vast  host  of 
religious  facts  and  spiritual  realities  which,  properly 
understood  and  arranged,  make  up  the  heavenly 
highway  to  eternal  life.  We  propose  to  deal  with 
these  now,  just  as  we  have  with  the  facts  and  realities 
pertaining  to  success  in  business  life,  and  happiness 
in  social  and  family  life.  It  will  be  no  more  necessary 
to  stop  and  prove  the  existence  of  things  connected 
with  religious  life,  than  it  has  been  with  business  or 
social  life.  One  set  of  facts  is  just  as  common  as 
the  other,  and  just  as  generally  understood  and  rec- 
ognized. It  is  true,  "The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart, 
There  is  no  God,"  but  this  class  constitute  only  a 
very  small  and  minor  portion  of  the  race.  The  large 
majority  of  people  on  the  earth  have  a  God  and  a 
religion  of  some  kind.  Our  chief  concern,  therefore, 
will  be  more  to  point  out  the  true  religion,  than  to 
waste  time  and  space  endeavoring  to  prove  the  exist- 


OUTLINES    OF    TRUE    RELIGION.  643 

ence  of  one.  We  shall  try  to  so  marshal  the  facts  of 
religious  life  that  the  reader  can  see  before  him  the 
path  of  safety  through  this  world  to  that  brighter 
and  better  one  above  to  which  we  give  the  name  of 
Heaven. 

The  writer  is  aware  that  there  is  a  great  deal  in 
the  world,  passing  under  the  name  of  religion,  which 
displeases  every  sensible  person  who  comes  in  contact 
with  it ;  all  of  which  will  be  very  carefully  avoided  in 
this  volume.  We  shall  cling  tenaciously  in  what  we 
have  to  say  to  the  shores  of  common  sense,  and  be 
guided  by  admitted  facts  in  human  nature,  in  the  out- 
side world,  and  in  the  Bible.  We  shall  try  to  build  up 
no  particular  creed  or  sect,  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  shall 
we  be  knowingly  false  to  any  clearly-revealed  truth 
pertaining  to  our  theme.  With  these  preliminary 
observations,  reader,  let  us  at  once  set  out  on  the 
Heavenly  Highway. 

OUTLINES  OF  TRUE  RELIGION. 

"Life's  mystery — deep,  restless  as  the  ocean — 
Hath  surged  and  wailed  for  ages  to  and  fro; 
Earth's  generations  watch  its  ceaseless  motion 
As  in  and  out  its  hollow  meanings  flow. 
Shivering  and  yearning  by  that  unknown  sea, 
Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  O  God !  in  Thee." 

Although  religions  of  various  kinds  are  as  old  as 
the  race,  and  their  doctrines  and  phenomena,  long 
since  settled  into  a  positive  science,  constitute  an 
object  of  study  and  investigation  ;  although  the  gos- 
pel of  Jesus  Christ  has  been  preached  for  more  than 
eighteen  hundred  years,  and  what  is  known  as  Chris- 


644  THE    NEW    TESTAMENT. 

tianity  has  permeated  all  departments  of  business  and 
social,  private  and  public  life,  and  has  become  as 
familiar  to  us  as  any  other  earthly  experience,  yet,  if 
one  were  to  ask  a  hundred  representative  persons 
this  precise,  definite  question  :  What  is  true  religion  ? 
the  variation  in  the  answers  would  be  not  only  a 
matter  of  surprise,  but  calculated  to  awaken  within 
the  mind  profound  solicitude  and  anxious  thought. 
These  answers  would  doubtless  arouse  in  the  mind 
such  queries  as  these :  Is  it  possible  that  the  vast 
majority  of  mankind  are  mistaking,  after  all,  the  true 
highway,  and  are  walking  in  the  "broad  road"  under 
erroneous  convictions  or  views  of  truth  ?  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  all  the  manifold  means  of  enlightenment 
respecting  the  true  interpretation  of  Scripture  avail 
nothing?  Is  the  race,  in  spite  of  all  efforts  put  forth 
to  the  contrary,  inevitably  blinded  and  foredoomed 
to  destruction  on  account  of  incorrigible  perverseness 
of  nature?  It  would  seem  so,  verily  ;  and  Christ's 
words  faintly  foreshadow  as  much,  when  He  says, 
mournfully,  concerning  the  true  way,  "  And  few  there 
be  who  find  it." 

THE  NEW  TESTAMENT. 

The  causes  of  this  variation  in  belief  are  manifold 
and  complex.  Prominent  among  them  is  the  lack  of 
diligent,  earnest,  protracted  study  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment ;  a  study  that  goes  down  to  the  roots  of  words 
and  doctrines,  instead  of  merely  skimming  the  sur- 
face. Again,  the  power  of  early  religious  training 
and  association  has  much  to  do  with  it ;  peculiarities 
of  temperament  and  disposition ;  the  strength  and 
depth  of  one's  native  ability  and  intellectual  culture— 


THE    NEW    TESTAMENT.  645 

all  combine  to  make  up  the  individual  lens  through 
which  true  religion  is  regarded. 

If  a  mounted  globe,  with  its  surface  divisions  into 
islands,  seas,  and  continents,  all  painted  in  different 
colors,  were  placed  in  the  center  of  a  schoolroom, 
and  each  scholar  from  where  he  sat,  should  be  called 
upon  to  answer  this  precise,  definite  question,  What 
is  the  earth  ?  the  variation  in  the  answers  would  doubt- 
less be  fully  as  great  as  in  the  case  before  instanced, 
respecting  the  question,  What  is  religion  ?  And  for 
precisely  the  same  reasons.  The  scholar's  position  in 
the  room,  his  antecedents  and  advantages,  the  accuracy 
and  extent  of  his  information,  his  mental  ability,  and 
especially  the  influence  of  those  who  sat  near  him,  all 
combining,  would  determine  his  reply.  Now,  both 
the  earth  and  religion  are  alike,  in  that  both  are 
spherical  in  their  completeness,  and  therefore  many- 
sided  ;  in  that  both  are  practically  inexhaustible  in 
extent ;  yet  by  proper  study  and  accurate  observation 
both  can  be  so  far  comprehended  that  no  fatal 
mistakes  shall  arise  on  account  of  necessary  igno- 
rance. Says  Dr.  Goulburn :  "  There  are  several 
points  of  view  from  which  Christianity  may  be  sur- 
veyed ;  and  although  it  be  one  and  the  same  object 
from  whatever  point  we  look,  yet  eyes  placed  on  dif- 
ferent levels  will  see  it  grouped  in  different  per- 
spectives." 

Inasmuch,  then,  as  upon  our  right  understanding 
of  what  religion  is,  depends  our  welfare  for  two 
worlds ;  inasmuch  as  many  biases  and  predispositions 
are  liable  to  warp  and  pervert  our  definition  of  it,  can 
we  do  better  than  examine  at  the  outset  a  few  of  the 
fundamental  facts  and  considerations  respecting  it 


646  THE    CHARACTER    OF    GOD. 

which  must  be  taken  into  the  account  before  we  can 
ever  hope  to  gain  a  just  and  accurate  understanding 
of  its  nature. 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  GOD. 

To  begin  with,  in  ascertaining  the  nature  of  true 
religion  it  will  be  necessary  to  have  a  true  conception 
of  the  character  of  God.  All  religion  starts  here; 
and  very  much  more  depends  upon  this  article  of 
faith  than  is  generally  supposed.  A  wrong  view  of 
the  character  of  God  will  thoroughly  vitiate  a  whole 
system  of  doctrinal  belief.  Every  false  system  of 
doctrine  in  the  world,  every  erroneous  religious  belief, 
every  false  sect,  or  denomination,  every  heretical 
church,  every  system  of  idolatry  the  world  over, 
among  civilized  or  uncivilized,  springs  from  a  false 
view  of  the  character  of  God.  This  may  not  appear 
to  be  the  leading  defect  or  error  in  some  cases,  but 
when  any  system  is  thoroughly  analyzed,  and  the 
taint  is  traced  to  its  true  source,  it  will  lead  to  this 
fundamental  conception ;  and  from  this  apparently  in- 
significant fountain,  this  little  spring  of  error,  the 
fatal  heresy  widens  and  deepens,  as  it  reaches  out 
into  conclusions  and  results,  until  the  whole  system 
is  poisoned. 

What,  then,  let  us  ask  with  some  degree  of  earn- 
estness, is  the  real  and  true  character  of  God ;  what 
the  leading  and  central  attribute  in  His  infinite  per- 
sonality ;  and  if  we  were  called  upon  to  describe  the 
character  of  God  in  a  single  word,  what  would  that 
word  be  ?  We  answer,  God  is  a  Holy  Being ;  holi- 
ness being  the  substratum  of  his  character,  the 


THE    CHARACTER    OF    GOD.  647 

foundation  of  all  his  attributes  and  perfections,  and 
the  leading  principle  actuating  all  his  dealings  with 
his  creatures.  This  quality  may  be  said  to  constitute 
the  nucleus  of  the  Godhead ;  to  be  the  one  central 
characteristic  or  attribute  of  His  nature  to  which  all 
the  others  yield  homage,  and  by  which  they  are 
measured  and  modified.  Everything  bends  to  this ; 
this  determines  the  nature  of  God's  government  over 
the  world ;  this  is  the  source  of  all  moral  law ;  this 
furnishes  the  only  complete  and  consistent  explana- 
tion of  all  His  arrangements  with  men. 

Turning  back  to  those  primeval  revelations  of  his 
character  which  God  himself  made  to  the  world 
under  the  Mosaic  dispensation,  we  hear  him  styling 
himself  "  the  Holy  One  ; "  we  hear  him  saying,  "I, 
the  Lord  your  God,  am  holy."  (Lev.  xx:  25  and  26.) 
The  same  truth  underlies  and  gives  significance  to 
the  whole  Jewish  system  of  sacrifices  ;  it  stamps,  as  it 
were,  all  the  surroundings  of  Deity.  Thus  his  angels, 
who  wait  on  him,  are  the  Holy  Angels ;  the  Scrip- 
tures, containing  his  will,  are  the  Holy  Scriptures ; 
the  faith  he  imparts  to  the  soul,  is  a  most  holy  faith  ; 
Christ  his  Son,  is  the  Holy  One  and  the  Just;  and 
the  Spirit  who  proceeds  from  him  to  sanctify  his 
children,  is  the  Holy  Spirit.  Holiness  is  also  set 
forth  as  the  end  of  Christian  attainment  and  perfec- 
tion here  on  earth.  "  Be  ye  holy,  for  I  am  holy, 
saith  the  Lord."  "  Follow  peace  with  all  men  and 
holiness,  without  which  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord." 

The  importance  of  love  in  the  Divine  character  has 
been  widely  advocated  of  late  years,  because  it  is 
the  sheet  anchor  of  all  those  who  hope  to  be  saved 
somehow  without  that  new  birth  or  change  of  heart 


648  HOLY,    JUST,    AND    GOOD. 

so  absolutely  indispensable.  While  allowing  its  just 
and  true  place  in  the  collection  and  classification  of 
attributes,  it  can  never  be  placed  first  and  foremost 
without  giving  us  a  distorted  view  of  God's  character ; 
and  as  we  have  already  seen,  such  a  distorted  view 
will  prevent  us  from  ever  obtaining  a  correct  answer 
to  our  question  :  What  is  religion  ? 

HOLT,  JUST,  AND  GOOD. 

In  thinking  of  God,  then,  we  should  look  upon 
him  as  a  Being  holy,  just,  and  good,  and  in  that 
order  ;  as  containing  within  himself  all  power,  wis- 
dom, and  love,  and  in  that  order ;  as  Creator  of  the 
Universe  and  God  of  all  grace,  and  in  that  order;  as 
the  great  omnipotent,  omniscient  and  omnipresent 
Spirit,  eternal  and  immutable,  and  as  exercising  both 
a  natural  and  moral  government  over  the  earth. 
Says  the  well-known  hymn  : 


Holy  and  reverend  is  the  name 

Of  God,  our  only  King, 
And  holy,  holy,  holy,  cry 

The  angels  when  they  sing. 

The  deepest  reverence  of  the  mind 

Pay,  O  my  soul!  to  God; 
Lift  with  thy  hands  a  holy  heart 

To  His  sublime  abode. 

Just  and  true  are  all  thy  ways, 

And  great  thy  works  above  all  praise; 
Humbled  in  the  dust,  we  own, 

Thou  art  holy,  thou  alone. 


THE   CHARACTER    OF    MAN.  649 

How  hard  it  is  amid  the  constant  worry  and  fret  of 
this  life,  to  hold  these  thoughts  as  near  our  hearts  as 
we  should;  but  only  by  dwelling  upon  them  con- 
stantly, thus  keeping  them  in  our  inward  soul,  can  we 
realize  the  majesty,  the  holiness,  and  the  immeasu- 
rable goodness  of  God,  our  King  and  Master. 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  MAV. 

The  second  pre-requisite  in  understanding  the  nature 
of  true  religion,  is  to  have  a  proper  view  of  the  char- 
acter of  man.  Is  it  like  or  unlike  that  of  God,  just 
considered?  Is  holiness  or  unholiness  the  distin- 
guishing and  predominating  trait  ?  By  the  word 
holiness,  as  applied  to  God,  is  meant  "  infinite  moral 
purity  seeking  purity,  and  delighting  in  it."  Can  the 
same  be  said  to  be  the  characteristic  of  man  ? 

The  Bible  has  never  been  sufficiently  valued  as 
containing  the  most  accurate  description  of  human 
nature  ever  given  to  the  world,  or  ever  found  in  any 
writings,  human  or  divine.  There  are  multitudes 
who  accept  readily  and  cheerfully  all  that  the  Bible 
reveals  to  us  concerning  the  character  of  God,  who 
inwardly  or  -openly  repudiate  much  of  what  is  therein 
found  concerning  the  character  of  man.  But  why 
should  this  be  done  ?  Does  not  the  experience  of 
the  world  confirm  the  statements  of  the  Bible  ?  Are 
not  the  records  of  human  history  corroborative  of 
the  records  of  Scripture  ?  Does  not  observation  tell 
the  same  .story?  And  are  not  the  facts  of  daily  life  all 
on  one  side  ?  That  man  who  denies  human  guilt  and 
a  transmitted,  hereditary  bias  toward  sin  and  wicked- 
ness, denies  the  plain  testimony  of  his  senses.  What 


650  MAN    IS    UNHOLY. 

would  any  human  science  be  good  for  that  ignored 
the  facts  relating  to  it,  or  refused  to  admit  the  actual 
state  of  the  case  ?  And  how  can  any  one  hope  to 
have  a  true  idea  of  religion  if  he  will  not  admit  the 
facts  concerning  the  nature  of  man  ;  or  of  what  value 
would  that  religion  be  which  ignored  the  true  state 
of  the  case  ?  Side  by  side,  therefore,  with  a  right 
view  of  the  character  of  God,  must  be  placed  an 
equally  correct  view  of  the  nature  of  man.  What  is 
that  nature  ? 

MAN  IS  UNHOLT. 

To  describe  it  in  a  single  word,  as  with  the  charac- 
ter of  God,  man  is  unholy ;  morally  unclean  and 
impure ;  just  the  opposite  of  his  Maker.  Whatever 
may  have  been  his  original  state,  or  however  he  may 
have  transferred  himself  from  that  state  into  his 
present  one,  man's  moral  character  now,  as  demon- 
strated by  the  facts  of  daily  life,  by  the  records  of 
history,  is  one  of  unlikeness  to  that  of  God ;  and  this 
fact  must  ever  stand  at  the  basis  of  any  true  system 
of  religion.  Not  that  this  is  all  of  man's  complex 
nature ;  but  so  far  as  religion  is  concerned,  this  is  the 
deepest  and  most  underlying  fact  of  his  being.  Not 
that  man  is  entirely  destitute  of  goodness,  as  we 
commonly  use  the  word  goodness  ;  for  man  is  still 
created  in  the  image  of  God,  as  before  the  fall.  But 
whatever  may  be  the  amount  of  his  goodness,  as  esti- 
mated by  our  earthly  standards,  he  has  no  goodness 
or  holiness  which  can  justify  him  at  the  bar  of  God. 
Examine  any  man's  life  and  character,  and  while 
there  will  be  many  things  amiable  and  noble,  as  esti- 


MAN    IS    UNHOLY.  651 

mated  among  men  ;  yet,  when  the  heart  is  held  up  to 
inspection,  and  the  character  of  its  motives  is  exam- 
ined, and  the  secret,  all-controlling  purpose  of  its 
existence  exposed,  it  will  be  found  to  be  in  direct 
antagonism  with  those  two  fundamental  canons  of 
moral  obligation,  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy 
God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 
And  on  account  of  this  want  of  conformity  to  God's 
standard  of  goodness  and  holiness,  is  man  pro- 
nounced morally  unclean  ;  the  opposite  of  that  which 
he  should  be  and  must  be,  before  he  can  hope  to  find 
that  heavenly  way  which  leads  unto  eternal  life. 

And  with  this  conclusion  agree  all  the  poets,  and 
all  careful,  experienced  observers  of  mankind.  Says 
Shakespeare  : 

"  There's  no  trust, 

No  faith,  no  honesty  in  men  ;  all  perjured, 
All  forsworn,  all  naught,  all  dissemblers." 

Says  Otway  : 

"  Trust  not  man,  who  is  by  nature  false, 
Dissembling,  subtle,  cruel  and  inconstant." 

Says  Dean  Swift : 

"  Vain  human  kind!  fantastic  race, 
Thy  various  follies  who  can  trace? 
Self-love,  ambition,  envy,  pride, 
Their  empire  in  our  hearts  divide." 

Says  Thomson  : 

"  What  is  the  mind  of  man?     A  restless  scene 
Of  vanity  and  weakness;  shifting  still, 
As  shift  the  lights  of  his  uncertain  knowledge, 
Or  as  the  various  gale  of  passion  breathes." 


652  MAN    IS    UNHOLY. 

Says  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson : 

"  Man  crouches  and  blushes,  absconds  and  conceals, 
He  creepeth  and  peepeth,  he  palters  and  steals; 
Infirm,  melancholy,  jealous,  glancing  around, 
An  oaf,  an  accomplice,  he  poisons  the  ground." 

Then  Young,  looking  on  both  sides  of  human 
nature,  exclaims : 

"  How  poor,  how  rich,  how  abject,  how  august, 

How  complicate,  how  wonderful  is  man! 
An  heir  of  glory!  a  frail  child  of  dust! 
Helpless  immortal!  insect  infinite!" 

Having  now  considered  the  character  of  God  and 
man  separately,  let  us  look  at  them  in  their  mutual 
relations. 

It  is  evident  that  before  a  holy  God  and  sinful  men 
can  ever  be  brought  together,  or  brought  into  sym- 
pathy with  each  other,  one  or  the  other  party  must 
be  changed  into  the  moral  likeness  of  the  other,  so 
that  there  can  be  some  basis  of  union,  and  some 
ground  for  fellowship  ;  for  "  what  concord  hath  light 
with  darkness."  It  is  still  further  evident  that  God 
cannot  change  himself  to  the  state  of  man,  without 
destroying  his  own  nature  and  the  foundations  of  the 
moral  universe,  and  upturning  all  the  established 
laws  of  right  and  truth ;  and  it  is  also  evident,  both 
from  the  testimony  of  Scripture  and  the  results  of 
continued  experience,  that  man,  without  some  higher 
power  operating  upon  him,  cannot  change  himself 
into  the  moral  likeness  of  God. 

There  is  now  imperatively  needed  a  Being  in 
whom  both  parties  can  meet  and  unite  ;  and  that 


POWER    TO    CHANGE    MAN'S    NATURE.  653 

being  is  Christ,  the  God-man  who  forms  in  himself 
the  connecting  link  between  the  divine  and  human, 
Creator  and  created.  Consequently,  there  can  be  no 
true  religion  which  in  any  way  depreciates,  ignores, 
or  perverts  the  mediatorship  of  Christ ;  there  can  be 
no  such  thing  as  a  true  view  of  the  nature  of  reli- 
gion, where  Christ  does  not  at  once  occupy  the 
central  position  and  throne,  and  where  he  is  not  at 
once  the  way  to  God,  the  truth  of  God  incarnate,  and 
the  very  life  of  God  in  the  soul.  A  religion  without 
Christ  must  either  be  a  low,  degraded,  blind  supersti- 
tion, or  at  best,  a  cold,  abstract,  monotonous  contem- 
plation. God  and  man,  in  their  mutual  relations, 
can  meet  and  be  in  harmony  only  in  Christ,  who 
embodies  both  in  himself  and  so  mediates,  reconciles, 
satisfies. 

POWER  TO  CHANGE  MAN'S  NATURE. 

Next,  there  is  needed  some  power  to  change  man's 
nature  and  bring  it  into  oneness  with  God  ;  to  create 
within  man's  soul,  now  alienated  from  God,  a  desire 
to  repent  and  seek  forgiveness ;  a  desire  to  pray  for 
strength  and  light  from  above  ;  and  this  power  is  the 
Holy  Spirit  sent  from  God  to  dwell  in  man's  soul. 
Accordingly,  no  religion  can  be  the  true  one  which 
leaves  out  the  offices  of  the  Spirit.  Christ,  the  medi- 
ator, as  now  situated,  is  nearer  God  than  man  ;  for 
we  read  that  ''He  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  at 
God's  right  hand  in  heaven."  But  when  Christ  left 
the  earth,  he  told  his  disciples  he  would  send  unto 
them  the  Spirit,  who  should  be  even  nearer  to  them 
than  he  himself  had  been  while  with  them,  for  the 


654  THE    GUIDE    BOOK. 

Spirit  should  be  in  them,  and  should  dwell  with 
them,  which  he  himself,  of  course,  could  not  forever 
do.  And  so  the  Spirit  stands  in  the  same  relation  to 
man,  that  Christ  does  to  God ;  thus  making  a  com- 
munication of  power  both  instant  and  effective 
between  the  heart  and  the  throne.  This  Spirit 
changes  man's  nature  by  changing  the  direction  of 
his  moral  affections,  and  thus  starting  him  on  that 
course  of  religious  development  which  brings  him 
nearer  to  God,  the  longer  it  is  continued.  This 
Spirit  leads  man  to  see  himself,  enlightens  the  mind, 
clarifies  the  perceptions  and  understanding,  and 
shows  him  Christ  as  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life. 
It  also  leads  him  and  helps  him  to  pray  for  assist- 
ance from  God  in  the  effort  to  be  like  him.  In  a 
word,  there  could  be  no  mutual  relations  established 
between  God  and  man  in  a  religious  sense,  without 
the  offices  of  both  of  these  intercessors  ;  Christ  with 
the  Father,  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  soul. 

THE  GUIDE  BOOK. 

One  thing  more  is  requisite,  and  that  is  a  Guide- 
Book  of  instructions.  For  if  man  is  to  be  like  God, 
or  one  with  him  in  nature,  he  must  know  what  God 
is,  and  what  he  requires ;  and  this  necessitates  a 
revelation  of  God's  will,  which  is  given  to  man  in 
the  Bible.  In  crossing  over  that  immense  moral 
space  between  man  and  God,  man  would  surely  be 
lost  but  for  explicit  instructions  from  the  farther  end 
of  the  route ;  and  these  are  given  to  him  in  the  Bible. 
In  entering  into  mutual  relations  with  God,  there 
must  needs  be  articles  of  specification,  and  some 


THE    GUIDE    BOOK.  655 

general  fundamental  principles  and  laws ;  and  these 
are  given  to  man  in  the  Bible.  Still  more,  there 
must  needs  be  an  external,  objective  test  or  standard 
by  which  to  measure  and  gauge  man's  inward,  spirit- 
ual experiences ;  and  this  infallible  test-book  is  the 
Bible.  As  Bishop  Burgess  puts  it :  "  All  true  reli- 
gion must  be  Scripture  religion,  all  worship,  Scripture 
worship,  all  zeal,  Scripture  zeal ;  so  that,  let  a  man 
have  never  such  sublime  knowledge,  such  burning 
zeal,  yet  if  it  be  not  according  to  the  law  and  the 
testimony,  there  is  no  light  in  him.  To  say  '  It's 
upon  my  conscience,  it's  upon  my  spirit,  I  find  much 
comfort  and  sweetness  in  such  and  such  things ' — is 
nothing ;  for  all  false  religions  can  and  do  say  as 
much.  But  hast  thou  the  Word  of  God  to  warrant 
thee  ?  Doth  that  justify  thee  ?  All  things  else  are 
but  an  empty  shadow."  Therefore,  we  must  ever 
say  of  the  Bible  as  did  Barton  : 

u  Lamp  of  our  feet!  whereby  we  trace 

Our  path  when  wont  to  stray; 
Our  guide,  our  chart!  wherein  we  learn 
Of  realms  of  endless  day. 

"  Childhood's  preceptor!   manhood's  trust! 

Old  age's  firm  ally! 
Pillar  of  fire,  through  watches  dark, 
To  radiant  courts  on  high." 

There  are  now  before  us  five  constituent  parts 
which  enter  into  and  compose  what  must  be  the  true 
religion,  since  it  takes  into  account  all  the  facts  on 
which  such  a  religion  must  build.  These  facts  are, 
as  we  have  seen,  a  correct  view  of  the  nature  of  God ; 


656  PARTLY    RIGHT. 

an  equally  correct  view  of  the  nature  of  man,  and  a 
consideration  of  God  and  man  in  their  mutual  rela- 
tions as  established  through  the  offices  of  Christ,  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  the  Bible.  And  these  facts  are  the 
way-marks  of  the  heavenly  highway  that  leadeth  unto 
life  eternal.  Such  a  religion  must  be  the  true  one 
because  it  is  reasonable,  systematic,  consistent,  and 
complete  ;  making  adequate  provision  for  the  honor 
of  God,  and  the  welfare  of  man  ;  it  embraces  all  the 
essential  ideas  of  religion,  and  no  single  part  can  be 
left  out,  or  modified,  without  destroying  the  value  of 
all.  Indeed,  so  important  are  each  and  all  of  these 
different  features,  that  it  requires  some  attention  and 
care  on  the  part  of  man  to  give  each  part  its  due  and 
proper  regard. 

PARTLT  RIGHT. 

There  are  hosts  of  people  who  are  partly  right  ; 
who  accept  some  one  or  more  of  these  constituent 
ideas  and  doctrines  of  true  religion  ;  who  are  some- 
times in  the  right  way ;  but,  alas  !  they  incorporate 
so  much  of  error  into  their  system,  and  reject  so 
many  of  the  facts  which  must  be  received  in  order 
to  include  the  essentials  ;  and  they  are  so  often  out- 
side the  true  way,  that  their  aberrations,  their  de- 
partures, their  unlawful  excursions  into  the  "  broad 
road,"  are  more  numerous  than  their  straightforward 
steps. 

These  people  imagine  that  if  they  are  in  ever  so 
small  a  degree  right,  their  lapses  and  mistakes  must 
be  taken  as  substitutes  for  the  exact  rectitude  which 
conscience  would  decide  to  be  the  proper  course. 


TRUTH    AND    ERROR    IN   RELIGION.  657 

With  them,  "  I  meant  right,"  and,  "  I  was  nearly 
right,"  are  terms  synonymous  with  "  I  was  right." 
Alas !  for  their  half-way  measures — their  lame  ap- 
proaches to  right  ;  they  shall  not  avail  with  upright, 
conscientious  judges.  No,  they  must  be  right,  and  do 
right,  if  they  would  receive  the  approval  of  self,  when 
conscience,  that  inexorable  judge,  awakes. 

TRUTH  AND  ERROR  IN  RELIGION. 

Truth  and  error  in  religion,  as  in  everything  else, 
are  both  absolute  and  relative  quantities ;  that  is,  they 
not  only  exist  separately  and  independently,  but  in 
connection  and  in  conjunction  with  each  other.  They 
sometimes  run  like  the  two  parallel  tracks  of  a  rail- 
way, side  by  side,  with  numerous  and  open  switches 
between,  so  that  a  man  can  pass  from  one  to  the 
other  before  he  is  himself  aware  of  the  transition. 
There  is  but  one  path  of  safety,  and  a  hundred  paths 
of  danger.  By  leaving  out,  or  by  explaining  away, 
any  one  of  the  five  elements  mentioned  in  this 
chapter,  man  leaves  the  heavenly  highway  and  starts 
off  into  a  wilderness  of  weary  wanderings  where 
paths  of  all  sorts  and  kind  intersect  and  cross  each 
other  in  such  a  bewildering  maze,  that  the  only 
possible  ending  of  his  search  is  to  be  hopelessly  lost. 
Thousands  upon  thousands  of  human  beings  are  now, 
and  have  been,  wandering  about  in  this  wilderness ; 
therefore  our  great  concern,  as  already  stated,  is  to 
guide  the  reader,  if  possible,  into  the  true  path  which 
has  but  one  ending,  in  life  and  peace  above.  Hence 
we  repeat  that  God,  man,  Christ,  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  the  Bible,  are  the  five  foundation  stones  on 


658  TRUTH    AND    ERROR    IN    RELIGION. 

which  the  Heavenly  Temple  is  built,  and  if  any  one 
is  omitted  from  the  ground-work  of  your  faith,  the 
temple  for  you  will  always  remain  closed. 

Does  the  reader  feel  inclined  to  ask,  How  do  we 
know  that  this  constitutes  the  true  religion  ?  We 
reply,  because  it  rests  upon  admitted  facts  in  human 
nature,  in  the  outside  world,  and  in  the  Bible  ;  because 
it  is  inherently  complete  and  harmonious ;  and  be- 
cause it  is  in  full  accordance  with  the  highest  perma- 
nent results  of  the  best  thinking  which  the  world  of 
mind  has  yet  produced.  Millions  have  accepted  these 
truths  and  facts,  and  have  been  saved,  and  millions 
more  are  now  clinging  to  them  as  shipwrecked  mar- 
iners to  a  rock  in  the  midst  of  dashing  billows.  As 
the  pious  Faber  has  sung : 

"  To  angels'  eyes 
This  Rock  its  shadow  multiplies, 
And  at  this  hour  in  countless  places  lies. 

One  Rock,  one  shade 

O'er  thousands  laid — 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  this  Rock ! 

"  In  the  Shadow  of  this  Rock 

Abide!  Abide! 
Ages  are  laid  beneath  its  shade. 

"'Mid  skies  storm-riven 
It  gathers  shadows  out  of  heaven, 
And  holds  them  o'er  us  all  night,  cool  and  even. 

Through  the  charmed  air 

Dew  falls  not  there — 
Rest  in  the  Shadow  of  this  Rock!" 


INVISIBILITY    OF   GOD    AND    HEAVEN.  659 


INVISIBILITY  OF  GOD  AND  HE  A  VEN. 


"  There's  a  land  far  away  'mid  the  stars,  we  are  told, 
Where  they  know  not  the  sorrows  of  time, 

Where  the  sweet  waters  wander  through  valleys  of  gold, 
And  life  is  a  treasure  sublime. 

'Tis  the  land  of  our  God,  'tis  the  home  of  the  soul, 

Where  rivers  of  pleasure  unceasingly  roll, 

And  the  way-worn  traveler  reaches  his  goal 
On  the  Evergreen  Mountains  of  Life." 


[ANY  years  ago,  Prof.  Austin  Phelps  of 
Andover,  Mass.,  in  a  little  work  en- 
titled "  The  Still  Hour,"  wrote  :  "  One 
of  the  most  impressive  mysteries  of 
the  condition  of  man  on  this  earth,  is 
his  deprivation  of  all  visible  and  audible  representa- 
tions of  God.  Christians  seem  to  be  living  in  a  state 
of  seclusion  from  the  rest  of  the  universe,  and  from 
that  peculiar  presence  of  God  in  which  angels  dwell, 
and  in  which  departed  saints  serve  him  day  and 
night.  We  do  not  see  him  in  the  fire  ;  we  do  not 
hear  him  in  the  wind ;  we  do  not  feel  him  in  the 
darkness." 

Now,  we  think  it  can  be  satisfactorily  shown  that 
this  condition  of  invisibility  with  regard  to  God  and 
heaven  is  no  "  impressive  mystery  "  at  all,  but  simply 
a  divinely-ordained  fact  established  for  the  best  and 


660  HEAVENLY    THINGS. 

wisest"  of  purposes.  Such  language  as  the  above  is 
more  redolent  of  the  spirit  of  the  Old  Testament 
than  of  the  New.  There  are  many  passages  in  the 
Old  Testament  which  contain  the  same  idea,  but 
none  in  the  New.  Thus  David  says,  speaking  of 
God,  "  Clouds  and  darkness  are  round  about  him." 
And  the  poor,  afflicted  Patriarch  of  Uz  also  exclaims, 
"Oh,  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him,  that  I 
might  come  even  to  his  seat.  Behold  I  go  forward, 
but  he  is  not  there ;  and  backward,  but  I  cannot 
perceive  him  ;  on  the  left  hand,  but  I  cannot  behold 
him  ;  on  the  right  hand,  but  I  cannot  see  him.  For 
he  is  not  a  man  as  I  am,  that  we  should  come 
together." 

.  Still,  nearly  all  minds  have  at  times  without  doubt 
felt  the  same  perplexity. 

HBAVENLT  THINGS. 

There  is  in  human  nature  a  strong  craving  after 
the  same  visibility  and  tangibility  in  heavenly  things, 
that  exists  among  the  earthly.  We  are  ourselves 
visible  and  tangible,  and  all  material  objects  and 
interests  about  us  are  so,  and  we  naturally  desire 
that  the  objects  of  our  faith  should  partake  of  the 
same  character;  forgetting  that  "  the  things  that 
are  seen  are  temporal,  while  the  things  that  are  not 
seen  are  eternal ;  "  forgetting,  as  the  Pharisees  did 
at  one  time,  that  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within  and 
hidden,  rather  than  without  and  observable. 

So  far  as  viewing  the  upper  world  is  concerned,  we 
are,  while*  in  life,  imprisoned  within  material  walls. 
And  in  our  weak,  imperfect,  unchristian  moods  we 


WE    ALL    WORSHIP    A    GOD.  66 1 

can  easily  see  how  the  pathetic  and  piteous  language 
of  Job  would  become  the  natural  plaint  of  universal 
human  nature.  Especially  would  this  be  true,  when 
one  was  wearied  and  fainting  from  incessant  battling 
against  spiritual  difficulties,  or  when  surrounded  by 
immediate  and  appalling  dangers.  For  it  has  been 
true  for  1800  years  that  the  heavens  o'erhead, 
wrapped  in  unbroken  silence,  look  down  with  seem- 
ing indifference  upon  the  struggling  masses  beneath, 
while  the  earth,  in  sluggish  muteness,  gives  no  sign 
of  sympathy.  It  is  true  that  from  out  the  clear  blue 
depths  above,  no  glimpse  of  God  or  heaven  hath 
ever  been  vouchsafed  to  man  since  Jesus  ascended, 
and  John  closed  up  all  outward  visions  at  Patmos  ; 
neither  has  any  audible  voice  been  heard. 

WE  ALL   WORSHIP  A  GOD. 

It  is  true,  that  so  far  as  outward  manifestations  are 
concerned,  we  all  worship  a  God  appreciable  to  us 
only  through  his  Works,  and  his  Word.  But  what 
of  it,  so  long  as  we  have  so  many  better  things  to 
take  the  place  of  all  this? 

Sometimes,  too,  this  feeling  is  liable  to  be  en- 
gendered by  a  continued  reading  and  study  of  the 
Old  Testament,  to  the  seclusion  of  the  New.  There 
we  learn  that  in  former  days  God,  through  his 
messengers  and  angels,  talked  with  his  special  chosen 
ones  as  a  man  talketh  with  his  friend  ;  that  these 
messengers  often  came  to  earth,  and  even  ate  and 
drank  with  men ;  that  intercourse  with  the  spirit 
world  was  common  and  general ;  and  that  visible 
manifestations  of  supernal  glory  were  often  given. 


662  JUDGE  OF  ALL  THE  EARTH. 

We  read  of  Noah  and  Abraham  and  Moses  and 
Samuel,  all  holding  some  sort  of  converse  with  the 
inhabitants  of  the  unseen  realm. 

And  not  only  this,  but  even  in  the  earlier  days  of 
the  New  Dispensation,  the  same  state  of  things  was 
perpetuated.  God  was  then  actually  manifest  in  the 
flesh,  and  lived,  and  ate,  and  walked  with  men  for 
the  space  of  thirty-three  years,  and  all  could  see  his 
person,  and  hear  the  gracious  words  which  proceeded 
from  his  mouth,  and  were  even  privileged  to  sit  at 
his  feet,  and  learn  the  ways  of  truth.  And  we  further 
see  that  the  twelve  Apostles  carried  about  with  them 
the  same  supernatural  power,  and  at  times  seemed 
more  like  inhabitants  of  another  world,  than  poor, 
finite,  limited  denizens  of  this.  And  without  doubt 
the  wish  has  been  uttered  by  thousands  that  they 
could  have  lived  in  those  days,  instead  of  now ;  but 
the  wish  has  been  idle  and  vain. 

JUDGE  OF  ALL  THE  EARTH. 

The  clouds  which  closed  after  Christ's  ascending 
form,  closed  up  also  all  visible  representations  of  God 
until  the  day  when  those  clouds  shall  again  be  parted 
to  let  through  this  same  Jesus  coming  in  the  capacity 
of  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  ;  while  in  the  grave  of 
John,  the  last  of  the  Apostles,  was  buried  the  last  link 
of  that  chain  of  direct  outward  communication  with  the 
upper  world,  which  had  reached  back,  almost  without 
a  break,  to  the  garden  of  Eden.  But  what  of  this,  if 
"  God  has  provided  some  better  things  for  us,  that 
they  without  us,  should  not  be  made  perfect  ? " 

With  right  views  of   the   nature    of   the   present 


JUDGE    OF    ALL    THE    EARTH.  663 

spiritual  dispensation,  this  invisibility,  so  far  from 
being  any  hindrance  to  spiritual  life,  is  on  the 
contrary,  a  great  and  positive  blessing.  The  ques- 
tion is  :  Have  we  been  put  forward  or  backward 
by  the  change  from  past  to  present  ?  Are  we  better 
off,  or  worse,  than  those  who  lived  in  former  times  ? 
We  think  the  former  view  to  be  the  true  one. 

Let  us  draw  a  contrast  between  the  times  of  these 
visible  manifestations,  and  our  own  time,  and  see 
who  would  be  willing  to  make  an  exchange.  To 
place  ourselves  in  the  steps  of  those  who  enjoyed 
such  manifestations,  we  should  be  obliged  to  throw 
away  at  the  outset  all  definite  knowledge  of  Christ, 
as  our  Redeemer ;  to  be  able  as  we  looked  back,  to 
see  no  Bethlehem,  no  Calvary,  no  Olivet ;  but  be 
content  with  what  we  call  a  type  or  shadow,  the  sig- 
nificance of  which  we  could  at  best  very  imperfectly 
comprehend.  We  should  have  to  dispense  with  all 
printed  Bibles,  and  in  fact,  with  printed  books  of  all 
kinds,  and  content  ourselves  with  a  few  rolls  of 
parchment,  containing  some  portions  of  the  Old 
Testament.  We  should  deprive  ourselves,  to  a  good 
degree,  of  the  sustaining  power  of  surrounding 
Christian  example  ;  we  should  have  to  blot  out  from 
our  minds  the  memory  of  all  the  Christian  teaching 
we  have  ever  received  from  Sabbaths  and  sanctu- 
aries ;  from  Bible-classes,  Sabbath  schools,  and 
prayer-meetings ;  and  content  ourselves  with  know- 
ing, or  perhaps  seeing,  that  here  and  there  lived  one 
who  walked  with  God,  and  occasionally  received  a 
visit  or  vision  from  some  heavenly  intelligence  who 
would  talk  with  him  a  few  minutes  and  then  disap- 
pear, leaving  the  returning  darkness  ten- fold  more 


664  THE    SPIRITUAL    PAST. 

dense  and  unbearable  than  before.  We  should  also 
be  obliged  to  leave  behind  us  our  schools,  our  edu- 
cational, eleemosynary,  and  benevolent  institutions  of 
all  kinds,  yea,  our  civilization  itself ;  and  content  our- 
selves with  semi-barbarous  customs  and  experiences. 
Who  is  prepared  to  trade  ? 

It  is  true,  this  picture  is  of  the  days  of  Enoch  and 
Noah  and  Abraham,  but  one  would  be  welcome  to 
all  the  additional  features  of  interest  they  could  draw 
from  the  time  of  Moses  to  the  birth  of  Christ,  or 
from  the  day  of  Pentecost,  which  broke  up  the  old 
system,  and  ushered  in  the  new.  While  there  would 
be  some  ameliorating  circumstances  discoverable  in 
subsequent  ages  that  were  not  visible  at  first,  yet 
there  would  be  no  time  when  the  contrast  would  not 
be  as  sharp  and  clearly- drawn  as  has  already  been 
seen.  And  who  does  not  feel  that  no  amount  of 
visible  and  audible  representations  could  possibly 
compensate  for  the  loss  of  all  which  so  emphatically 
constitutes  our  glory  and  our  crown  ! 

THE  SPIRITUAL  PAST. 

We  never  shall  regard  the  spiritual  Past  in  its  true 
light  until  we  look  upon  it  as  a  season  of  pupilage 
and  tutorship.  The  race  were  so  ignorant  reli- 
giously, so  crude  and  undeveloped,  that  God  was 
obliged  to  employ  a  kind  of  religious  object-teaching 
and  pictorial-illustration  system  in  his  dealings  with 
them,  just  as  our  missionaries  now  do  with  rude  and 
semi-barbarous  heathen,  or  as  we  now  do  with  chil- 
dren. Instruction  had  to  be  simple,  plain,  open, 
direct,  and  outward,  rather  than  abstract  and  ethical. 


THE    SPIRITUAL    PRESENT.  665 

But  when,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  God  gave  the  world 
not  simply  the  patterns  of  things  in  the  heavens,  but 
rather  the  heavenly  things  themselves,  then  humanity 
went  up  from  the  primary  and  intermediate  depart- 
ments of  religious  teaching,  into  rooms  of  a  higher 
grade  ;  and  miracles  and  audible  voices  and  wonder- 
ful events  were  only  continued  long  enough  to  set 
the  new  system  in  motion,  and  then  they  were  quietly 
withdrawn.  And  to  desire  to  go  backward  to  those 
times  and  things,  is  to  desire  to  be  treated  as  children 
rather  than  as  those  that  are  matured,  cultured,  and 
ripened  in  Christian  growth  and  attainments. 

THE  SPIRITUAL  PRESENT. 

Another  reason  why  the  spiritual  present  is  better 
than  the  past,  is  because  of  the  superiority  of  a 
completed  Bible  over  all  imperfect  and  half  revela- 
tions of  truth.  It  is  quite  a  significant  fact  that  the 
Bible  was  completed  and  the  old  order  of  communi- 
cations closed  up,  by  one  and  the  same  man,  and  at 
the  same  time.  John  the  Revelator  received  the  last 
celestial  vision,  and  also  wrote  the  last  page  of 
Scripture  ;  and  this  coincidence  clearly  intimates  that 
thereafter  God  desired  men  should  read,  rather  than 
dream  or  see.  The  religious  knowledge  of  those 
who  lived  under  this  dispensation  of  dreams  and 
visions,  was  very  imperfect  as  compared  with  that 
which  is  in  the  possession  of  every  one  to-day. 
Without  doubt,  to  have  possessed  a  copy  of  our 
completed  Bible,  Abraham  would  gladly  have  given 
all  his  wealth,  and  all  his  peculiar  privileges,  if  indeed 
they  can  rightly  be  called  such.  At  the  best,  the 


666  THE    SPIRITUAL    PRESENT. 

ancients  had  but  the  alphabet,  while  we  have  the  full 
treatise.  And  although  there  is  to  us  no  Urim  and 
Thummim,  no  Holy  of  Holies  out  of  which  come 
audible  responses  ;  no  supernatural  light,  or  visible 
mercy-seat ;  no  pillar  of  cloud  and  fire  ;  yet  as  a  lamp 
to  our  feet  and  a  light  to  our  path,  we  have  a  Guide 
and  a  Book  which  speak  plainer,  fuller  and  better 
things  than  were  ever  before  delivered  to  men  by 
prophet  or  oracle.  And  what  though  the  heavens 
are  closed  above  us,  the  Bible  is  open  before  us  ;  and 
what  though  visible  signs  and  wonders  have  ceased 
about  us,  yet  the  truth  and  the  life  have  taken  up 

their  abode  within  us.     And  in  value  the  last  is  first, 

• 

and  the  first  is  last. 

Still  another  reason  for  the  superiority  of  the 
invisible  over  the  visible  is  found  in  the  active  opera- 
tions of  the  Holy  .Spirit  who,  as  a  distinct  person, 
and  a  distinct  power  in  the  world,  was  hardly  so 
much  as  known  or  heard  of  under  the  former  dis- 
pensation. As  proof  of  this  we  need  cite  only  the 
express  words  of  Christ  to  his  disciples,  "  If  I  go  not 
away,  the  Spirit  will  not  come ; "  intimating  most 
decidedly  that  the  Holy  Spirit  as  a  distinct  person 
and  power  was  to  take  his  place  on  earth  and  carry 
on  and  out  his  work  in  the  hearts  of  his  people ;  thus 
making  the  new,  in  contradistinction  from  the  old,  a 
pre-eminently  spiritual  dispensation.  More  than  this, 
these  silent,  inaudible  communications  of  the  Spirit 
to  the  heart,  were  also  to  take  the  place  of  all  verbal 
messages  addressed  to  the  ear. 

Those  messages  were  adapted  to  the  times  in  which 
they  were  given  ;  when  spiritual  messages  were  neces- 
sary to  the  human  understanding ;  when  men  and 


MODES   OF    COMMUNICATION.  667 

women  "  dreamed  dreams,  and  saw  visions."  We  of 
to-day,  are  blessed  with  that  Book  of  books  which 
takes  the  place  of  the  actual  Presence,  and  with  the 
Spirit,  which  is  indeed  the  Comforter. 

MODES  OF  COMMUNICATION. 

» 

These  two  modes  of  communication,  so  far  as 
effectiveness  is  concerned,  can  best  be  set  forth  by  a 
practical  illustration.  Two  men  are  stationed  on 
distant  hill-tops,  desiring  to  talk  with  each  other. 
The  natural  voice  is  unable  to  span  the  intervening 
gulf  with  a  bridge  of  natural  sound,  and  so  recourse 
is  had  to  large  speaking  trumpets.  The  loud,  re- 
sounding clangor  of  blasts  and  words  reverberate 
through  the  air  and  down  the  hill-sides,  but  the  noise 
nearly  or  quite  drowns  the  substance  of  the  communi- 
cation. As  a  method,  it  would  be  best  described  as 
slow,  difficult,  and  imperfect.  At  a  later  time  and 
in  another  place,  two  men  are  stationed  at  even  a 
greater  distance,  and  for  the  same  purpose ;  but 
instead  of  employing  trumpets,  they  pass  between 
them  an  electric  wire  with  batteries  at  each  end,  and 
lo !  they  can  as  freely  and  easily  talk  as  though 
seated  side  by  side. 

And  so  the  writer  to  the  Hebrews  says, . "  For  ye 
are  not  come  unto  the  mount  that  might  be  touched, 
nor  unto  blackness  and  darkness  and  tempest,  and  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet  and  the  voice  of  words ;  but  unto 
Mount  Zion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  God,  the 
Judge  of  all,  and  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels 
and  to  the  Church  of  the  first-born,  which  are  written 
in  heaven."  The  first  method  indicated  might  be 


668  VERBAL    MESSAGES. 

called  the  Sinaitic ;  but  Christ  introduced  a  method 
of  spiritual  communication  which  may  not  be  inap- 
propriately called  telegraphic  and  heavenly.  And 
shall  we  say  because  the  first  method  was  more 
demonstrative  and  noisy  and  outwardly  impressive, 
that  therefore  it  was  the  more  effective,  and  the 
highest  and  best  method?  Does  not  our  experience 
tell  us  that  the  chords  of  the  heart  vibrate  more 
quickly  and  strongly  to  the  pulsations  of  a  spiritual 
current,  than  to  mere  words  and  sounds  addressed 
to  the  ear,  and  unaccompanied  by  the  Spirit  ? 

VERBAL  MESSAGES. 

In  the  case  of  all  verbal  messages,  the  message 
is  more  or  less  subordinate  to  the  messenger ;  but 
with  spiritual  communications,  the  agent  being  invis- 
ible, the  message  itself  has  full  sway,  and  is  all-power- 
ful. And  so  it  has  proved  in  modern,  as  contrasted 
with  ancient,  spiritual  life. 

A  fourth  reason  why  the  invisible  is  superior  to 
the  visible  is  because  it  calls  into  exercise  the  enno- 
bling power  of  faith.  The  maxim  of  the  visible  system 
was,  "Obey  and  live  ;"  but  the  motto  of  the  new  and 
spiritual  is,  "  Believe  and  be  saved."  All  visible  man- 
ifestations, by  appealing  to  the  senses,  tend  to 
encourage  and  directly  promote  unbelief;  so  that 
when  Christ  came,  the  greatest  obstacle  he  encount- 
ered in  his  work  was  that  very  lack  of  faith  which  was 
the  natural  result  of  the  visible  system.  Is  it  any 
wonder,  then,  that  these  audible  communications  and 
visible  signs  and  miracles  were  withdrawn  as  soon  as 
possible,  when  their  continuance  was  hindering  the 


FREE    AGENTS.  669 

growth  of  that  inward  grace  by  which  alone  man  could 
draw  near  to  God  and  God  to  man,  in  saving  rela- 
tions ?  And  for  this  very  reason  the  system  has 
never  been  revived  again,  because  it  would  have  a 
direct  tendency  to  ultimately  destroy  the  only  power 
in  man's  depraved  heart  that  can  change  it  from  bad 
to  good  in  God's  sight. 

The  keynote  of  all  true  spiritual  progress,  as  it  is 
the  keynote  of  the  spiritual  dispensation,  is  the  one 
golden,  transforming,  heavenly  word,  BELIEVE.  This 
gives  to  Christian  character  a  healthy,  robust,  manly, 
vigorous  development ;  and  by  the  exercise  of 
faith  we  become  strong  in  all  good  thinking  and 
right  acting.  We  pass  from  childish  bondage  to 
mature  freedom ;  from  a  thralldom  to  the  outward 
senses,  to  the  liberty  of  inward  trust  and  love. 
Under  the  former  arid  visible  system  God  led  his 
people  as  it  were  by  the  hand,  but  it  placed  them  in 
the  position  of  little  children  whom  we  dare  not  trust 
alone.  It  made  them  weak,  fitful,  and  inconstant; 
bold  indeed  to  execute  when  under  the  eye  of  their 
leader,  and  under  the  inspiration  of  an  immediate, 
direct  lease  of  power  ;  but  the  moment  their  mission 
was  accomplished,  and  the  work  at  hand  over,  they 
sank  back  into  comparative  hesitancy  and  feebleness. 

FREE  AGENTS. 

On  the  contrary,  God  deals  with  us  as  with  free, 
responsible  agents.  He  gives  us  his  will  in  general 
instructions  and  laws  which  are  sufficiently  explicit  to 
cover  the  whole  ground  of  duty  when  carefully  and 
faithfully  carried  out ;  but  the  application  of  those 


670  FREE    AGENTS. 

principles  to  details  and  circumstances,  he  commits 
entirely  to  us.  He  holds  us  responsible  for  a  diligent 
study  of  the  rules,  and  for  the  exercise  of  our  highest 
wisdom  and  prudence  in  discharging  the  obligations 
they  impose ;  but  the  liberty  given  us  is  that  of  a  son 
and  heir,  rather  than  a  servant  in  bondage  to  tutors 
and  governors.  And  as  a  result,  while  we  may  not, 
perhaps,  be  so  bold  and  positive  and  confident  as 
they  were  at  times,  we  can  be  more  uniform  and 
steady,  and  never  so  much  at  a  loss. 

And  when  we  find  it  difficult  to  take  hold  of  spirit- 
ual things  by  the  eye  and  power  of  faith  alone, 
receiving  no  help  from  external  signs  and  symbols ; 
when  we  feel  sometimes  like  crying  out  for  aid  in 
grasping  the  intangible  and  the  eternal,  yet  let  us 
remember  this  is  the  very  kind  of  inward  warfare 
which  will  make  us  valiant  and  true  soldiers  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  the  very  kind  which  will  lead  us  on  to 
ultimate  and  glorious  victory.  A  sacrifice  in  the 
temple  of  Solomon  might  have  been  more  outwardly 
impressive  than  a  season  of  spiritual  communion  in  a 
modern  prayer-meeting,  but  Christ  knew  that  these 
prayer-meetings  would  be  more  conducive  to  our 
spiritual  progress,  and  better  fitted  to  qualify  us  for 
the  life  to  come. 

Job  and  Paul  may  stand  as  fair  representatives  of 
the  two  types  of  character  which  the  two  systems  of 
communication  under  consideration  were  fitted  and 
calculated  to  produce.  Had  Job  lived  in  Paul's  time 
we  should  have  had  a  far  different  book  from  him 
than  we  have  now,  while  to  throw  back  Paul  to  Job's 
day  would  be  to  deprive  the  world  of  one  of  the 
grandest  and  noblest  and  most  inspiring  characters 


NATURAL    LAWS.  671 

of  history,  and  to  take  from  his  writings  all  that  is 
precious  and  powerful. 

Is  it  any  longer,  therefore,  an  ''impressive  mystery" 
why  we  have  been  deprived  (if  deprivation  it  can  be 
called)  of  visible  signs  and  audible  sounds  ?  When 
God  shut  us  up  to  the  Bible  and  to  faith,  and  made 
us  dependent  on  the  Holy  Spirit,  he  immeasurably 
advanced  us  in  privilege,  and  conferred  upon  us  His 
highest  favors  and  blessings.  All  that  is  truly  valu- 
able in  our  modern  civilization,  all  that  is  truly  great 
and  noble  in  individual  character,  has  come  directly 
from  this  change  of  the  Old  to  the  New. 

Still,  we  are  not  even  now  deprived  entirely  of 
visible  representations  of  God.  Over  us  to-day  hang 
the  same  heavens  that  looked  down  upon  Abraham, 
and  these  heavens  declare  to  us,  as  to  David,  the 
glory  of  God,  while  the  firmament  showeth  his  handi- 
work. Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech  to  our  hearts, 
as  to  theirs ;  while  the  rolling  year  is  as  full  of  him 
now,  as  ever. 

NATURAL  LAWS. 

God  is  also  the  same  in  his  providences  and  judg- 
ments, though  he  has  changed  somewhat  the  manner 
of  executing  them ;  now  working  through  natural 
laws,  instead  of  outside  them  as  formerly.  In  fact, 
to  us  as  to  the  Hebrews,  "the  eternal  universe  is 
only  a  black  screen  concealing  God.  All  things  are 
full  of,  yet  all  distinct  from  Him.  The  cloud  on  the 
mountain  is  his  covering,  the  muttering  of  the 
thunder  is  his  voice  ;  in  the  wind  which  bends  the 
forest  or  curls  the  clouds,  he  is  walking ;  the  sun  is 


6/2  NATURAL    LAWS. 

still  his  commanding  eye.  Whither  can  we  go  from 
his  presence  or  spirit  ?  At  every  step  and  in  every 
condition  we  are  God-inclosed,  God-filled,  God- 
breathing  men,  while  a  spiritual  presence  lowers  or 
smiles  on  us  from  the  sky,  sounds  in  the  wild  tempest, 
or  creeps  in  panic  stillness  along  the  surface  of  the 
ground.  Then,  if  we  turn  within,  lo  !  He  is  there 
also,  as  an  eye  hung  in  the  central  darkness  of  our 
hearts." 

Then  we  have  his  completed  Word,  containing 
this  sentence  which  all  the  ancients  never  had  heard 
or  learned  :  "  God  is  a  spirit ;  and  they  that  worship 
him  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth."  We 
have  also  the  tangible  history  of  the  life  and  teachings 
of  the  incarnate  and  historic  Christ,  and  besides,  we 
have  a  special  and  powerful  method  of  communication 
with  the  heavenly  world,  which,  if  not  absolutely  new, 
is  at  least  more  general  and  practical  than  ever  before 
in  the  world's  history;  and  this  is  prayer.  "  Hither- 
to," said  Christ  when  on  earth,  "  ye  have  asked 
nothing  in  my  name;  ask  and  receive  now,  that  your  joy 
may  be  full."  We  are  shut  up  to  this,  as  to  the 
Bible ;  and  the  soul  that  never  uses  this  means  of 
approach  unto  God,  and  never  receives  spiritual 
blessings  from  God  in  answer  to  prayer,  has  indeed 
good  reason  to  complain  of  its  fearful  isolation  and 
darkness. 

And  finally,  we  have  the  promise  that  after  walking 
by  faith  here  on  earth,  and  enduring  its  conflicts,  and 
maintaining  our  hold  steadfastly  upon  the  things 
which  are  unseen,  as  did  Moses,  of  whom  it  is  written 
that  he  "endured  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible, 
having  respect  unto  the  recompense  of  the  reward," 


NATURAL    LAWS. 


673 


we  shall  go  at  length  where  there  will  be  no  veil,  no 
shadow,  no  night,  no  darkness,  no  concealment. 
For  if  now  we  are  compelled  to  see  through  a  glass 
darkly,  yet  then,  face  to  face  ;  if  now  we  know  but 
in  part,  yet  then  we  shall  know,  even  as  we  are 
known  ! 


674  GROUNDS   OF    RELIGIOUS   CERTAINTY. 


GROUNDS   OF  RELIGIOUS   CERTAINTY. 


"  Tossed  with  rough  winds,  and  faint  with  fear, 
Above  the  tempest,  soft  and  clear, 
What  still  small  accents  greet  my  ear  ? 
?Tis  I  ;  be  not  afraid. 

"  'Tis  I  who  led  thy  steps  aright, 
'Tis  I  who  gave  thy  blind  eyes  sight, 
'Tis  I,  thy  Lord  and  Life  and  Light ; 
Be  not  afraid." 


JOT  long  since,  in  the  course  of  some  mis- 
cellaneous reading,  we  came  upon  the  fol- 
lowing sentence  :."  Within  the  dim  twilight 
of  revealed  spirituality,  troubled  ones  are 
constantly  groping  for  the  heart's-ease 
that  is  ever  denied  the  traveler  this  side 
of  immortality." 

This  sentence,  when  analyzed,  is  found  to  be  as 
full  of  meaning  as  it  is  of  beauty.  From  the  writer's 
standpoint  he  makes  here  three  assertions  :  First, 
that  revelation  is  a  dim  twilight ;  second,  that  all 
troubled  or  anxious  ones  are  groping  here  for  a  foot- 
hold ;  third,  that  certainty  in  spiritual  matters  is  ever 
denied  the  traveler  this  side  of  immortality,  or  the 
future  state. 

The  thought  at  once  springs  up  in  a  believing 
mind :  Is  there  no  better  posture  or  state  in  which 


TESTIMONY    OF    THE    SENSES.  675 

the  mind  can  rest,  than  the  one  indicated  by  this  sen- 
tence ?  Or,  in  other  words,  are  there  no  sufficient 
grounds  of  certainty  in  religious  life  ?  Are  we  con- 
demned to  grope  evermore,  on  this  side  of  eternity,  in 
a  dim  twilight  of  doubt  ?  Has  not  God  done  better 
than  that  for  us  with  regard  to  Himself  and  His  truth  ? 

In  striking  contrast  with  this  state  of  uncertainty 
are  the  words  which  we  find  coming  from  the  lips  of 
holy  men  of  old.  Listen  to  some  of  them.  Says 
Job:  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth."  Says 
Jethro,  the  priest  of  Midian,  to  Moses  :  "  Now  I 
know  that  the  Lord  is  greater  than  all  gods."  Says 
David:  "  Now  I  know  that  the  Lord  saveth  His 
anointed."  Says  Peter:  "  Now  I  know  of  a  stirety 
that  the  Lord  hath  delivered  me  out  of  the  hand  of 
Herod."  Says  Paul :  "  For  I  know  whom  I  have 
believed."  And  again  :  "  For  we  know  that  if  our 
earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we 
have  a  building  of  God,  a  house  not  made  with 
hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens."  And  finally,  John 
says  :  "  These  things  have  I  written  unto  you  that  ye 
may  know  that  ye  have  eternal  life." 

Was  the  confident  faith  expressed  by  these  writers 
a  reasonable  one  ?  Can  it  be  justified  on  ordinary 
grounds  of  evidence  ?  Is  Christ  a  living  God  and 
Saviour?  Is  the  Bible  true?  Is  religion  a  reality  ? 
And  how  may  one  know  all  this,  or  what  are  the 
grounds  of  religious  certainty  ? 

TESTIMONY  OF  THE  SENSES. 

We  answer,  that  one  may  know  the  certainty  of 
religious  things  by  the  testimony  of  the  senses,  or  that 


TESTIMONY    OF    THE    SENSES. 

evidence  which  comes  to  the  soul  through  the  eye 
and  ear.  There  exists  in  the  universe  an  unvarying 
law,  which  is  called  the  law  of  cause  and  effect,  and 
this  law  is  recognized  on  all  hands  as  constituting  not 
only  an  irrefragable  species  of  evidence,  but  also  as 
constituting  one  of  the  very  sources  of  all  knowledge 
and  all  certainty.  This  law,  stated  in  plain  terms,  is 
this  :  Every  Cause  must  have  an  Effect,  and  every 
Effect  must  have  an  equal  or  adequate  Cause ;  and 
the  two  factors  of  the  proposition  must  correspond 
one  to  the  other  ;  i.  e.y  the  effect  must  be  like  the 
cause,  and  the  cause  must  be  equal  to  the  effect. 

This  law  forms  the  basis  of  all  human  thinking  ;  it 
is  one  of  the  grooves  of  the  human  mind  in  which  all 
thought-wheels  run,  when  they  run  at  all ;  it  is  a  pri- 
mary, a  necessary,  a  universal  truth  ;  and  by  a  neces- 
sary truth  we  mean  a  truth  the  contrary  of  which  is 
unthinkable.  But  that  no  one  may  still  stumble  over 
these  terms,  cause  and  effect,  we  will  explain  them 
further.  By  Cause,  we  mean  any  power  or  force  that 
is  capable  of  producing  a  result ;  and  by  Effect,  we 
mean  simply  the  result  produced.  Thus,  the  sun  is 
the  cause  of  light  and  heat ;  and  light  and  heat  are 
the  effect  of  this  cause.  And  so  indissolubly  associ- 
ated are  these  two  ideas,  that  if  you  should 
say  to  a  blind  man,  "  There  is  a  sun,"  he  would  reply 
at  once,  "  Then  there  must  be  light  and  heat."  But 
how  does  he  know  it  ?  Because  his  mind  is  incapable 
of  thinking  in  any  other  way.  It  is  a  necessary  law 
of  his  thought,  that  he  should  at  once  predicate  the 
existence  of  light  and  heat,  when  he  is  informed  of 
the  existence  of  the  cause  of  these  properties.  If  a 
locomotive  runs  at  all,  it  must  run  upon  the  rails  ;  so,  i:'- 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CHURCH.  677 

the  mind  works  at  all,  it  must  work  according  to  its 
laws,  and  the  mental  wheels  must  run  in  the  grooves 
which  God,  the  Creator,  has  scooped  out  for  them 
in  the  nature  and  constitution  of  things. 

Again,  let  a  blind  man  walk  forth  into  the 
air  and  feel  the  effects  of  light  and  heat  upon  his 
senses,  and  he  knows  instantly  that  there  must  be 
a  cause  for  this  effect,  and  that  the  cause  must  cor- 
respond to  the  effect,  i  e.,  be  equal  to  it,  and  of  the 
same  kind.  This  kind  of  knowledge  is  so  organic 
and  inevitable  and  necessary,  that  whenever  we  can 
be  assured  through  the  testimony  of  the  senses  of 
the  existence  of  either  one  of  these  two  factors,  the 
existence  of  the  other  follows  necessarily,  because 
the  laws  of  thought  compel  it.  There  is  no  alter- 
native, and  there  can  be  no  change  without  having  a 
different  mind,  and  a  different  world.  Logic  is  a 
science,  reason  has  its  rules,  and  thought  its  necessary 
modifications ;  and  every  mind  in  its  normal  state 
recognizes  and  obeys  these  mental  statutes.  If  it 
does  not,  we  say  that  it  is  diseased  or  shattered,  and 
instead  of  thinking  sense,  it  thinks  nonsense. 

Now,  let  us  apply  this  law  of  thought  to  the  deter- 
mination of  our  questions  :  Is  Christ  a  living  King 
and  Saviour,  is  the  Bible  true,  is  religion  a  reality  ? 
Or  what  are  the  grounds  of  certainty  by  which  we 
may  know,  as  well  as  we  know  anything,  that  all  these 
questions  can  be  answered  in  the  affirmative  ? 

THE  CHRIS  TIA  N  CH  URCH. 

By  the  testimony  of  our  senses,  we  know  that  there 
exists  a  very  extensive  organization  called  the 


678  THE    CHRISTIAN 'CHURCH. 

Christian  Church,  embracing  the  whole  body  of 
Christian  believers.  We  see  it  before  us,  we  hear  of 
its  doings,  we  feel  its  influence.  The  existence  of 
the  church,  therefore,  is  an  effect  or  result  which 
must  have  an  adequately  producing  power,  or  an 
adequate  cause.  This  cause  cannot  be  human  be- 
cause the  effect  is  not  human,  there  is  nothing  human 
which  is  analogous  to  the  church  ;  it  is  unique,  it 
stands  apart  from  every  other  fact  in  the  universe. 
Its  very  existence  is  in  itself  a  marvel ;  it  survives  all 
changes,  it  endures  all  trials  and  persecutions,  it  over- 
comes all  opposition,  it  continually  spreads  and  grows  ; 
and  that,  too,  without  any  compulsion  or  bonds,  aside 
from  the  voluntary  love  of  its  adherents  ;  and  this 
cannot  be  said  of  any  other  existing  organization 
on  earth. 

Moreover,  this  Christian  church  counts  and  has 
counted  among  its  followers  a  considerable  share  of 
the  very  best  people  of  the  world,  living  and  dead ; 
the  ablest  minds,  the  noblest  hearts,  the  purest  lives. 
The  power  which  the  church  exerts  upon  society  and 
upon  government  is  something  very  salutary  and  very 
extensive ;  nothing  can  compare  with  it  in  this 
respect.  And,  in  short,  looking  upon  the  church  in 
its  origin  and  career,  in  its  organization  and  structure, 
in  its  history  and  work,  the  conclusion  is  inevitable 
that  it  is  something  superhuman  or  divine.  And  if 
it  is  a  divine  effect,  it  must  have  a  divine  cause.  Or 
in  other  words,  the  existence  of  the  Christian  church 
proves  the  existence  of  Christ,  the  truth  of  the  Bible, 
and  the  reality  of  religion.  It  is  one  ground  of  real 
certainty  by  which  we  may  know  these  things  as  well 
as  we  know  anything. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    CHURCH.  679 

The  fact  is,  the  existence  of  the  Christian  church 
cannot  be  accounted  for  satisfactorily  upon  any  other 
hypothesis  than  that  furnished  by  the  Bible.  If 
Christ  is  not  a  living  God  and  Saviour,  and  the  Bible 
is  not  true,  and  religion  is  not  a  reality,  then  you 
have  before  you  the  greatest  anomaly  in  the  world, 
the  greatest  wonder  of  time,  the  greatest  miracle  of 
history ;  yea,  more  than  this,  you  have  before  you  an 
astounding,  gigantic  effect  without  any  adequate  cause; 
which  is  an  impossibility  in  itself,  and  an  absurdity  in 
thought.  To  believe  such  a  thing  would  at  once  be 
an  evidence  of  insanity. 

How  then  can  one  know  that  these  things  are  true  ? 
We  answer,  just  the  same  as  we  know  that  the 
Governor  of  any  State  lives,  although  we  may  never 
have  seen  him,  or  that  the  President  lives,  or  that  the 
law  of  gravitation  exists,  or  any  other,  invisible 
power,  or  cause  ;  know  it  by  the  visible  effects  which 
are  produced.  The  existence  of  the  Christian  church 
is  a  real,  solid  fact,  and  cannot  be  set  aside  or  rubbed 
out ;  and  being  a  fact,  it  must  be  properly  and  ade- 
quately accounted  for.  Every  effect  must  have  an 
adequate  cause  ;  institutions  like  the  Christian  church 
do  not  spring  into  existence  of  themselves ;  they 
must  have  a  founder  and  a  foundation  ;  they  embody 
within  themselves  substantial  verities ;  they  exist 
because  there  is  a  living  power  behind  and  within 
them.  No  human  principle  accounts  for  the  existence 
of  the  Christian  church ;  no  human  facts  would 
warrant  its  continuance  through  a  single  generation  ; 
and  yet  it  lives  on  through  one  generation  after 
another,  growing  stronger,  reaching  out  wider,  and 
becoming  more  powerful  each  year.  The  first 


68O  TESTIMONY    OF    HISTORY. 

evidence,  therefore,  by  which  I  know  that  religious 
things  are  real  and  true,  is  the  plain  testimony  of  my 
senses,  and  this  is  just  as  much  a  valid  ground  of 
certainty  in  religion,  as  in  law  or  business.  This 
single  principle  alone  makes  faith  in  God  and  Christ 
and  the  Bible,  a  reasonable  faith. 

TESTIMONT  OF  HISTORT. 

A  second  ground  of  certainty  in  religious  things  is 
the  clear  testimony  of  history.  Christianity  not  only 
exists  all  around  us  to-day  as  an  actual  fact,  but  it 
has  existed  in  substantially  its  present  form  for  more 
than  i, 800  years.  There  is  no  more  doubt  of  this 
than  there  is  of  'the  ancient  existence  of  the  British 
Empire.  It  is  a  plain  matter  of  history,' and  we  know 
it  just  as  really,  and  in  just  the  same  way,  as  we 
know  any  historical  fact.  Weighed  according  to 
any  standard,  there  is  stronger  and  clearer  evidence 
of  the  historical  existence  of  Jesus  Christ  and  the 
Apostles,  than  there  is  of  the  historical  existence  of 
Julius  Caesar  and  his  famous  generals,  or  of  Alex- 
ander the  Great  and  his  famous  wars. 

Inside  the  church  an  unbroken  line  of  testimony 
to  the  existence  of  Christianity  goes  straight  back, 
through  Irenseus  and  Polycarp,  to  the  Apostle  John. 
Outside  the  church,  another  line  of  testimony  goes 
back,  through  Tacitus,  the  younger  Pliny,  and 
Josephus,  to  about  the  same  point  and  date. 

And  what  is  true  of  Christianity  and  Christ  is 
equally  true  of  the  Bible.  To  a  large  extent  the 
Christian's  faith  rests  upon  a  book — a  book  radically 
unlike  every  other,  and  by  common  consent  superior 


SKEPTICAL   CRITICISM.  68  I 

to  every  other  as  a  moral  guide.  Testimonies  to  the 
historical  existence  of  the  Bible  also  go  back  uninter- 
ruptedly to  within  a  very  short  period  of  the  col- 
lection and  formation  of  the  New  Testament  Canon 
(A.  D.  120),  while  the  existence  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment goes  back  into  the  very  dawn  of  all  history. 

SKEPTICAL   CRITICISM. 

Any  method  of  skeptical  criticism  which  seeks  to 
invalidate  this  historical  testimony  to  the  genuineness 
of  the  Bible,  destroys  at  the  same  time  the  value  of 
every  historical  book  in  existence,  and  makes  any 
knowledge  of  the  past  impossible.  For  example, 
Archbishop  Whately,  of  England,  took  up  the  princi- 
ples and  rules  by  which  some  modern  critics  were 
attempting  to  prove  the  Bible  false,  and  by  them  also 
proved  logically  and  conclusively  that  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  never  lived  ;  that  all  records  concerning 
him  were  legends  and  myths,  and  had  no  true, 
reliable,  historical  basis,  which  of  course  was  a  plain 
absurdity. 

In  the  British  Museum  there  is  to-day  an  original 
manuscript  of  a  religious  document  written  by 
Clement  of  Rome  about  the  year  95,  a  few  years 
after  the  death  of  the  Apostle  John.  This  document 
purports  to  be  an  epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  some- 
what after  the  manner  of  Paul's,  written  to  heal  some 
further  divisions  in  that  church  which  had  arisen  after 
Paul's  death ;  and  not  only  by  the  blessed  and  Chris- 
tian spirit  which  it  breathes,  'but  by  express  and 
valuable  testimony,  it  establishes  the  historical  exist- 
ence of  Christianity  and  the  Bible  at  that  early 


682  SKEPTICAL   CRITICISM. 

period.  We  mention  this  not  because  it  stands  alone 
in  this  respect,  but  simply  as  a  sample  of  the 
undoubted  historical  basis  on  which  and  by  which  we 
may  know  the  certainty  of  what  is  revealed,  and  what 
to  believe. 

How  then  can  one  know  that  the  Bible  is  genuine 
and  true  f  We  answer,  in  just  the  same  way  as  we 
know  that  any  history  is  true  ;  know  it  just  as  really 
and  as  certainly,  and  by  the  same  kind  of  evidence. 
In  every  college  in  the  land  there  are  read  and  trans- 
lated what  are  called  the  books  of  Livy  and 
Herodotus,  the  first  written  in  Latin,  and  the  second 
in  Greek.  They  purport  to  be  early  histories  of 
the  empires  of  Greece  and  Rome.  And  their  state- 
ments have  been  substantially  accepted  by  all  scholars 
as  veritable  and  correct  from  the  beginning  of  learn- 
ing until  now.  But  the  evidences  for  the  genuineness 
of  the  Bible,  as  every  scholar  knows,  are  as  ten  to 
one  when  compared  with  either  Livy  or  Herodotus, 
or  Xenophon,  or,  in  fact,  any  of  the  so-called  ancient 
classics. 

Besides  this,  it  is  a  principle  of  law,  and  so  acted 
upon  in  all  legal  tribunals  (I  quote  now  from 
two  of  the  highest  legal  authorities,  viz.,  "  Green- 
leaf  and  Starkie  on  Evidence"),  that  all  docu- 
ments apparently  ancient,  not  bearing  on  their 
face  the  marks  of  forgery,  and  found  in  proper 
custody  (mark  this),  are  held  in  law  to  be  genuine 
until  sufficient  evidence  is  brought  forward  to  the 
contrary.  Now,  where  were  these  ancient  docu- 
ments, the  Gospels  and  Epistles,  found  ?  We  answer, 
they  were  found  in  the  custody  of  the  church;  of 
those  who  believed  in  them,  and  regarded  them  as 


TESTIMONY   OF   CONSCIENCE.  683 

sacred  ;  of  those  who  had  to  defend  them  against  the' 
persecutions  and  attacks  of  enemies ;    of  those  who 
were  willing  to  die  giving  testimony  to  their  purity 
and   truth.     Any  motive  for  deception  here  ?     Not 
the  slightest. 

And  what  characteristics  do  these  ancient  documents 
bear  upon  their  face  as  to  their  own  genuineness  ? 
Look  at  them  closely  ;  study  them  attentively  ;  mark 
the  simplicity  and  directness  of  statement  in  them ; 
the  calmness  of  tone,  the  precision  and  comprehen- 
siveness of  expression,  even  upon  the  most  difficult 
questions  ;  observe  the  almost  measureless  separation 
of  them  from  all  other  books  and  literary  productions 
in  all  ages  ;  look  at  their  subject-matter  ;  see  how  it 
rises  to  the  heights  and  reaches  down  to  the  depths 
of  humanity ;  how  it  measures  all  states  and  con- 
ditions of  life ;  touches  every  chord  of  sympathy,  and 
contains  the  spiritual  biography  of  every  human 
heart ;  suited  to  every  class  of  society,  king  and 
beggar,  philosopher  and  child,  and  reaching  in  its 
declarations  not  only  through  the  limits  of  time,  but 
forward  into  the  boundless  regions  of  eternity.  Con- 
sider all  this,  and  then  ask  if  these  documents  are 
forgeries.  Why,  such  a  forgery  would  be  a  greater 
miracle  than  any  recorded  in  the  documents  them- 
selves. This,  then,  is  the  second  ground  of  certainty 
in  religious  things — the  clear  testimony  of  history. 

TBSTIMONT  OF  CONSCIENCE. 

Still  another  is  the  internal  testimony  of  conscious- 
ness.  And  this  is  undoubtedly  the  kind  of  testimony 
referred  to  in  Paul's  declaration,  "  For  I  know  whom 


684  TESTIMONY    OF   CONSCIENCE. 

•I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to 
keep  that  which  I  have  committed  to  his  hands." 

By  this  word,  consciousness,  we  mean  the  soul's 
knowing  in  itself  that  a  thing  is  true.  Consciousness 
sustains  the  same  relation  to  the  soul  that  the  senses 
do  to  the  body.  It  is  the  certainty  of  intellectual 
and  moral  conviction,  or,  speaking  religiously,  the 
certainty  of  faith. 

Is  this  kind  of  testimony  good  for  anything  ?  Will 
any  man  say  that  the  firm  convictions  of  so  many 
millions  of  intelligent  and  earnest  minds,  respecting 
a  subject  of  so  much  consequence  as  religion, 
have  no  weight  as  a  matter  of  evidence  ?  To  believe 
or  declare  that  such  a.  vast  number  of  rational  and 
sober  and  clear-minded  beings  could  all  be  deceived 
upon  the  questions  whether  Christ  was  a  living  Lord, 
the  Bible  true,  and  religion  a  reality ;  that  this  decep- 
tion could  last  for  eighteen  centuries,  without  any  one 
finding  it  out ;  and  not  only  last,  but  continue  to 
grow  stronger,  and  increase  in  extent  as  time  rolled 
on — to  say  this,  is  to  utterly  destroy  the  value  of 
human  testimony  upon  any  and  every  subject  under 
heaven. 

The  fact  that  an  organization  lives  right  on  amidst 
the  most  bitter  conflicts  within,  and  the  most  relent- 
less persecutions  without,  and  continues  to  increase 
steadily,  is  proof  positive  that  such  an  organization 
not  only  embodies  within  itself  substantial  facts  and 
verities,  but  that  it  meets  and  supplies  the  heaven- 
born  wants  of  the  human  soul.  It  is  an  incontro- 
vertible fact  that  a  lie,  a  falsehood,  an  error,  a  sham, 
never  perpetuates  itself.  This  fact  is  established 
by  human  experience,  observation,  and  history.  False 


POSITIVE    PROOF.  685 

things  have  no  inherent,  recuperative  energy.  As 
Bryant  puts  it,  "  Error,  when  wounded,  writhes  in 
pain,  and  dies  even  amidst  its  worshipers."  And  this 
is  not  simply  poetry,  but  it  is  fact  also,  and  is  so 
recognized  by  all. 

The  millions  of  souls  who  have  constituted  the 
membership  of  the  Christian  Church  have  not  all 
been  fools,  neither  were  they  all  deranged  ;  but  they 
have  simply  declared  what  to  them  were  the  words  of 
truth  and  soberness.  And  the  fact  that  so  many  have 
thus  declared  these  sentiments,  and  are  still  declaring 
them,  is  a  strong  presumptive  proof  that  the 
sentiments  themselves  are  just  and  true. 

POSITIVE  PROOF. 

Presumptive  proof  ?  Yea,  more — -positive  proof. 
You  have  already  been  referred  to  one  unvarying 
law,  called  the  law  of  Cause  and  Effect.  We  point 
now  to  another,  equally  valid,  relating  to  the  value  of 
human  testimony.  It  is  this  :  Mankind  universally 
cannot  honestly  believe  a  lie.  If  they  could,  there 
would  be  no  such  thing  as  truth,  for  there  would  be 
nobody  to  determine  what  was  truth.  To  suppose 
that  universal  human  intelligence  can  be  outwitted 
and  hoodwinked  and  deceived  by  any  cunningly- 
devised  fable,  is  to  destroy  the  value  of  intelligence 
itself,  and  practically  to  blot  it  out  of  existence  for- 
ever. Where  do  we  go  to  find  out  what  is  truth,  but 
to  concurrent  human  testimony  ?  Why  do  we  submit 
a  case  of  life  and  death  to  the  decision  of  twelve 
men  ?  Because  it  is  a  fundamental  dictate  of  reason 
and  common  sense,  that  a  collection  of  minds,  all 


686  POSITIVE    PROOF. 

earnestly  examining  the  same  point,  in  a  majority  of 
cases  cannot  be  deceived.  And,  if  this  is  true  of 
twelve  men,  what  shall  we  say  of  hundreds  and 
thousands  and  millions,  running  on  through  one  age 
after  another,  and  each  taking  up  the  subject  for 
himself,  and  going  over  it  afresh  ?  Is  it  possible  for 
them  all  to  go  astray  ?  If  it  is,  then  farewell  to  any 
and  all  testimony  respecting  any  subject,  for  it  is  not 
worth  a  straw.  Farewell  to  all  distinctions  between 
right  and  wrong,  truth  and  error  ;  for  no  man  can  tell 
or  determine  which  is  correct ;  farewell  to  all  knowl- 
edge and  science  and  human  learning,  for  one  man's 
opinion  is  as  good  as  another's  ;  farewell  to  all  courts 
of  justice  and  legal  decisions,  for  no  one  can  be  sure 
that  they  are  right;  farewell  to  all  business  and 
commercial  intercourse,  for  no  man's  declaration  can 
be  relied  upon. 

It  is  true  that  one  man  or  a  number  of  men  are 
liable  to  be  deceived,  but  not  true  that  all  men  are. 
The  case,  therefore,  stands  thus :  All  men  believe  in 
the  existence  of  a  God  ;  a  universal  belief  cannot  be 
false  ;  therefore,  God  exists.  All  men  have  some  kind 
of  religion ;  all  men  cannot  be  deceived ;  therefore, 
religion  is  a  reality. 

These,  then,  are  the  three  grounds  of  religious  cer- 
tainty— the  testimony  of  the  senses,  the  testimony  of 
history,  the  testimony  of  consciousness — a  three-fold 
cord,  which  is  not  easily  broken.  The  first  is  a  matter 
of  plain,  every-day  observation ;  the  second,  a  matter 
of  reason  and  judgment ;  the  third,  a  matter  of 
inward  conviction  and  feeling.  Can  any  stronger 
proofs  be  brought  forward  on  any  subject  appealing 
to  human  credibility,  or  asking  human  acceptance  ? 


POSITIVE    PROOF.  687 

No  one  is  compelled  to  say  that  he  rather  thinks 
religion  is  true ;  that  possibly  Christ  is  a  living 
Saviour ;  that  perhaps  the  Bible  is  the  book  of  God ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  all  can  say,  in  the  language  of 
Job,  Paul,  David,  Peter,  and  John:  "WE  KNOW," 
because  all  can  know  the  truth  of  these  things  just 
as  firmly  and  certainly  as  they  know  any  other  well- 
attested  truth  or  fact,  and  by  the  same  kind  of  evi- 
dence. Christianity  is  not  a  cunningly-devised  fable ; 
neither  has  it  been  kept  hidden  in  a  corner ;  neither 

"  Need  we  any  wings 

To  soar  aloft  to  realms  of  higher  things, 
But  only  feet  which  walk  the  paths  of  peace, 

Guided  by  Him  whose  voice 
Greets  every  ear,  and  makes  all  hearts  rejoice." 


688  REPENTANCE. 


REPENTANCE. 


"  Return,  return  thee  to  thine  only  rest, 

Lone  pilgrim  of  the  world! 

Far  erring  from  the  fold, 

By  the  dark  night  and  risen  storms  distressed, 
List,  weary  one,  the  Shepherd's  anxious  voice. 

44  Return,  return,  thy  fair  white  fleece  is  soiled, 
And  by  sharp  briers  rent; 
Thy  little  strength  is  spent, 
Yet  He  will  pity  thee,  thou  torn  and  spoiled." 


:T  is  a  coincidence  not  to  be  overlooked,  that 
both  John  the  Herald  and  Christ  the  King 
began  their  public  ministry  by  preaching  the 
same  subject  in  the  same  words,  those  words 
being  :  "  Repent  ye,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
is  at  hand."  The  subject  of  repentance,  then,  must 
be  the  key-note  of  the  new  dispensation,  and  a  door 
opening  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  itself.  And 
whether  we  view  it  historically  or  experimentally, 
repentance  is  the  first  step  toward  a  new  and  divine 
life — a  life  that  God  will  own  and  bless  here,  and 
abundantly  reward  hereafter. 

Very  much  of  the  popular  religion  of  our  day 
addresses  men  as  if  by  nature  they  were  already  fit 
for  heaven,  and  already  ripe  for  translation.  But  not 


REPENTANCE.  689 

so  said  Christ ;  not  so  says  experience,  observation, 
internal  consciousness,  good  judgment,  history  ;  not 
so  says  everything  to  which  we  can  appeal  for  enlight- 
enment, confirmation,  or  proof.  One  of  two  things, 
therefore,  must  be  true  :  Either  the  Bible  makes  a 
great  mistake,  or  such  a  representation  as  the  above 
is  radically  and  vitally  wrong.  Is  it  not  a  plain 
matter  of  common  sense  (to  go  no  higher)  that  if 
men  are  already  fit  for  heaven,  naturally,  there  is  no 
need  of  being  born  again,  or  created  new  within  ;  no 
need  of  any  Scriptures,  or  means  of  grace  ;  more  than 
this,  no  need  of  a  Saviour  at  all  ?  Christ's  work  and 
life  and  death  were  all  superfluous,  a  mere  waste  of 
time  and  effort,  an  exhibition  of  useless  self- 
imposed  hardship  and  suffering.  God  made  a  very 
foolish  move  when  he  sent  his  Son  into  the 
world  to  die  that  man  might  live,  if  man  could 
live  just  as  well  without  him,  and  die  just  as 
well  without  him,  and  be  saved  just  as  well  with- 
out him, — if  by  nature  he  is  already  fit  and  ready 
for  each  when  it  comes.  Are  we  prepared  to  accept 
this  last  conclusion  ?  Hardly ;  and  yet  we  must 
accept  it,  or  else  believe  that  both  John  and  Christ 
came  preaching  repentance  as  the  first  step  toward  a 
new  and  higher  life,  because  repentance  first  of  all 
was  necessary ;  because  without  this  there  could  be 
no  such  thing  as  religion  at  all ;  without  this,  no 
progress  in  holiness,  or  purity  of  heart  and  life ;  with- 
out this,  no  room  or  chance  for  a  seat  at  God's  right 
hand. 

What  do  men  do  when  they  wish  to  irrigate  and 
fertilize  a  barren  piece  of  land  ?  What  do  they  do  in 
Egypt,  along  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  where  the  land  is 


690  THE    HUMAN    HEART. 

naturally  a  desert  ?  They  cut  out  canals  or  channels 
leading  from  the  river,  and  take  away  all  natural 
obstacles,  so  that  the  water  may  flow  over  the  soil, 
and  deposit  upon  it  its  fertilizing  sediment,  thus  cre- 
ating a  kind  of  new  soil  upon  a  naturally  barren 
bottom.  Now,  spiritually,  some  hearts  before  God 
are  like  the  barren  desert ;  he  sees  no  blessed  fruitage 
there ;  they  are  destitute  of  holiness,  destitute  of 
moral  purity  in  his  sight.  They  need  heavenly  irri- 
gation ;  they  need  the  water  of  life,  the  indwelling  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  the  influx  of  Christ's  power,  to  enable 
them  to  live  a  higher  and  better  life.  And  before 
they  can  get  all  this,  there  must  be  cut  out  a  channel 
in  which  the  water  can  flow  from  the  river  of  God  on 
high  into  and  over  their  souls,  and  deposit  there  its 
spiritual  sediment,  thus  creating  a  kind  of  new  soil  on 
the  basis  of  the  old  barren  one.  And  the  cutting 
out  of  this  channel,  and  the  clearing  away  of  all  the 
old  sinful  rubbish  and  natural  obstacles,  such  as  pride, 
obstinacy,  love  of  sin,  rocks  of  hardness  and  indiffer- 
ence, underbrush  of  sinful  habits  and  practices, 
tangled  thickets  of  deceit  and  dishonesty,  and  general 
wickedness  ;  the  clearing  away  of  all  this,  and  the 
digging  out  of  a  direct  source  of  communication 
with  the  river  of  God  above — this  is  the  work  of 
repentance. 

THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

Spiritually,  all  human  hearts,  whatever  may  be  their 
natural  differences  or  natural  qualities — and  there  is 
a  vast  diversity  in  personal  natures,  some  being 
much  more  amiable  than  others,  but  yet,  empha- 


THE    HUMAN    HEART.  69! 

sizing  the  word — all  human  hearts,  whatever  their 
natural  state  or  condition,  need  and  must  have  more 
spirituality,  more  religion  in  them  than  they  possess 
naturally,  before  they  can  live  a  true  Christian  life 
here,  or  be  saved  at  last.  The  Bible  rings  out  its 
messages  of  warning  to  all  mankind  alike,  saying  : 
"  Except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish." 
"  Unless  your  righteousness  exceed  that  of  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees  (which  was  merely  formal),  ye  shall  in 
no  case  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  The  one 
thing  insisted  upon  is  the  possession  of  a  pure  and 
holy  character,  the  indwelling  of  a  new  and  divine 
life,  derived  from  Christ. 

And  now,  the  amount  of  repentance  and  faith 
necessary  to  secure  this,  depend  upon  the  quality  of 
one's  natural  character.  As  already  remarked,  there 
are  great  differences  in  people  religiously,  as  well  as 
in  every  other  way.  Some  hearts  are  like  the  desert, 
naturally  barren  and  sterile,  and  need  a  new  soil  en- 
tirely before  any  religious  fruit  can  grow.  Some  are 
like  natural  trees  that  bear  plenty  of  fruit  of  a  poor 
quality ;  these  need  grafting  with  a  new  and  higher 
life.  Some  are  like  marshes  and  fens,  foul  and  rank 
with  noxious  weeds  and  plants  that  need  killing  out 
or  pulling  up  by  the  roots,  before  anything  better  can 
have  room  to  grow.  Some  are  like  rocks,  utterly  hard 
and  insensible,  and  need  to  be  blasted  and  broken  up 
with  great  shocks  of  calamity,  or  accident,  or  suffer- 
ing, before  they  begin  to  move  or  feel  at  all.  Some 
are  like  wild  vines  that  are  frail,  tender,  clinging,  and 
loving,  and  these  need  to  be  taught  and  cultivated 
and  strengthened  by  the  power  of  faith,,  and  the  help 
which  Christ  alone  can  give.  Some  are  like  the  timid, 


692  CONVERTED. 

retiring  wild-flower  in  the  forest,  that  needs  to  be 
brought  out  into  the  sunlight  of  God's  reconciled 
countenance,  and  be  made  to  grow  with  new  strength 
and  beauty.  Some  are  like  gardens  that  bring  forth 
fruits,  flowers  and  weeds  in  about  equal  proportion  ; 
these  need  cleaning,  and  plowing  and  replanting. 
Some  are  gnarled  and  twisted  like  a  bush,  almost  be- 
yond the  power  of  redemption  by  any  ordinary  means. 
Some  are  already  putrid  with  lust,  sin,  and  crime,  like 
decayed  wood  or  herbage.  And  others  are  naturally 
lovely  and  amiable,  and  inclined  toward  the  good 
and  lovely,  just  as  rootlets  strike  out  toward  water 
by  an  inherent  instinct ;  who  are  what  may  be  called 
religiously  inclined,  but  still  not  spiritual,  not  holy  ac- 
cording to  the  Scriptures  and  the  requirements  of 
Christ,  not  Christians  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word. 

CONVERTED. 

But  all  alike,  whatever  their  natural  variations  or 
excellences,  need  to  be  converted  before  they  can  be 
saved.  With  some  the  process  of  conversion  would 
be  longer  and  more  difficult  than  with  others,  but  still 
all  alike  must  be  born  again  before  they  can  enter  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  "  There  is  none  that  doeth 
good,"  i.  e.  absolutely  and  perfectly  good  in  the  divine 
sense  of  the  word,  "no,  not  one."  For  all  alike  have 
gone  astray  upon  some  points,  and  in  some  respects, 
however  right  they  may  be  in  others ;  and  hence  the 
universal  necessity  of  repentance  as  the  first  step  to- 
ward a  new  and  higher  and  purer  life. 

This  conclusion  is  further  enforced  by  the  fact  that 
moral  and  spiritual  qualities  are  not  transmissible  like 


CONVERTED.  693 

almost  every  other  quality  of  mind  and  nature.  If  a 
man  develops  his  physical  strength  and  vigor,  and 
toughens  his  constitution  and  native  hardihood,  and 
makes  his  stock  and  blood  good  and  healthy,  the  law 
is  that,  unless  some  corrupting  influence  come  in  to 
vitiate  the  blood,  his  children  will  naturally  inherit 
somewhat  of  the  parental  character  in  this  respect. 
In  this  sense,  therefore,  the  results  of  our  life  are 
transmissible  to  another,  the  child  reaping  the  rewards 
and  benefits  of  the  father's  doings.  The  same  is 
true,  to  a  limited  extent,  of  mental  characteristics,  and 
also  of  acquired  mechanical  skill.  In  some  parts  of 
Europe  where  communities  are  separated  from  each 
other,  and  all  devoted  to  some  particular  branch  of 
handiwork,  living  by  themselves,  and  following  the 
same  trade  for  generations,  the  result  is  that  the  chil- 
dren of  these  parents  not  only  "  take  "  to  that  kind  of 
work  naturally,  as  ducks  to  water,  but  exhibit  a 
natural  aptitude  for  the  work — thus  showing  that  the 
skill  and  knowledge  acquired  by  the  parents  are  in  a 
measure  transmitted  to  the  children.  But  while  this 
law  holds  good  mentally,  and  socially,  and  physically, 
it  utterly  fails  morally.  However  good  and  holy  or 
religious  the  parents  may  be  in  character  and  life, 
every  child  is  born  a  sinner.  Nothing  religious  is 
transmitted.  It  is  one  of  the  sad  consequences  of 
the  fall,  but  it  is  real.  This  matter  of  religion 
becomes  thus,  intensely  and  exclusively,  a  personal 
matter ;  every  soul  has  to  go  over  the  ground  by 
itself,  and  alone,  deriving  very  little  help  from  others. 
The  piety  of  parents  does  not  avail  for  the  children ; 
every  one  must  repent  and  believe  for  himself  or 
herself,  or  be  lost.  Each  child  must  make  his  choice 


694  A    NEW    CREATION. 

for  himself — no  one  can  be  saved  for  another.  If  you 
choose  to  become  good,  or  to  make  the  effort,  your 
endeavors  will  bear  their  fruit.  The  prayers  and  in- 
fluence of  a  pious  parent  will  help  you  into  the  right 
path — they  will  not  save  you  without  personal  effort. 

A   NEW  CREATION. 

It  is  thus  seen  that  religion  is  not  simply  a  quality 
of  nature,  as  some  would  have  us  believe.  It  is  not 
something  inhering  in  the  disposition  and  character, 
needing  only  to  be  developed  and  brought  out  by 
Christian  nurture  and  culture.  It  is,  rather,  a  new 
creation  in  the  soul,  wrought  there  by  the  combined 
power  of  God's  truth  and  spirit.  It  is  a  power  that 
comes  into  the  soul  from  Christ,  not  a  power  evoked 
from  the  soul  itself,  by  proper  appliances.  This  is  a 
great  and  important  distinction. 

Nor  is  this  all.  While  holiness  is  not  transmissi- 
ble, sin  is.  This  law  which  works  so  uniformly  and 
beneficently  in  all  other  departments  of  life,  has  been 
completely  perverted  and  reversed  in  relation  to 
morals.  While  the  parents  cannot  house  up  holiness 
for  their  children,  they  can  and  do  accumulate  the 
terrific  consequences  of  transgression  and  wickedness. 
Evil  tendencies  and  proclivities  are  inherited  far 
more  readily  and  surely  than  good  ones.  We  each 
bear  about  with  us  not  only  our  personal  sins,  but 
also  a  greater  or  less  load  of  sin  which  comes  down 
to  us  from  the  past.  Hence  repentance  is  doubly 
necessary.  We  must  be  saved  from  the  consequen- 
ces and  power  of  our  own  sins,  and  also  saved  from 
the  power  of  evil  inherited. 


A    NEW    CREATION.  695 

It  is  no  wonder,  then,  that  both  John  and  Christ 
began  their  public  ministry  by  preaching  the  same 
subject,  in  the  same  words ;  both  of  them  saying  to 
all  around,  ''Repent,  repent,  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand."  Both  of  them  saw  that  this  was 
the  first  step  to  be  taken,  and  until  this  had  been 
taken,  no  further  steps  were  possible. 

But  what  is  repentance  in  itself,  what  is  its  funda- 
mental and  underlying  idea  ?  The  original  word 
means  literally  an  afterthought,  or  a  change  of  mind, 
a  change  of  view.  Now  to  think  after,  or  take  a 
second  thought,  is  often  to  think  differently,  and  to 
think  more  justly  and  truly ;  hence,  to  repent  of  the 
first  thought.  The  idea  pre-supposes  that  the  mind 
has  received  some  new  and  better  light  with  regard 
to  life  and  its  duties,  and  its  relations  to  God  and 
man  ;  which  new  light  within,  makes  a  change  inevi- 
table, a  change  of  thought,  and  purpose,  and  intention. 

And  this  without  doubt  is  the  beginning  of  re- 
pentance. The  soul  is  convicted  of  sin  by  the  com- 
bined power  of  God's  truth  and  spirit.  It  sees  now 
that  its  former  views  of  life  were  wrong,  and  of 
course  that  its  actions  have  all  been  wrong.  This 
afterthought  or  change  of  mind  makes  one  not  only 
resolve  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf  in  the  book  of  life,  but 
also  to  strive  to  get  rid  of  the  disastrous  consequen- 
ces of  the  old  manner  of  life.  It  thus  looks  forward, 
backward,  and  upward,  at  the  same  time.  It  looks 
backward  at  its  old  course  of  sinful  living,  sees  its 
enormity  and  wickedness,  and  is  led  to  abhor  it  and 
turn  from  it,  and  to  ask  God  to  forgive  it.  It  looks 
up  to  an  outraged  and  indignant  Judge,  and  is  led  to 
implore  pardon  and  peace.  It  looks  forward  to  the 


696  PRIMARY    ELEMENTS. 

remainder  of  life,  and  also  forward  to  the  great  bar 
of  God  where  its  actions  are  to  be  weighed  and 
judged,  and  calls  upon  God  for  strength  to  live  a 
new,  a  holy,  and  an  upright  life. 

PRIM  ART  ELEMENTS. 

The  primary  elements  of  repentance,  then,  are 
three.  First,  a  change  of  mind  and  intention  caused 
by  new  and  better  light  or  knowledge  which  enables 
the  soul  to  see  itself  and  God,  and  the  world,  in  higher 
and  truer  aspects.  Secondly,  a  change  of  conduct 
corresponding  to  this  change  of  mind.  As  thought 
precedes  action  naturally,  and  action  follows  correct 
thought  inevitably,  so  these  two  elements  will  be  in 
harmonious  proportion,  necessarily.  And  thirdly, 
this  change  of  thought  and  conduct  will  be  accom- 
panied by  sorrow  for  the  past,  and  strong  crying  to 
God  for  help  to  reform.  The  absence  of  either  of 
these  three  ingredients  vitiates  the  whole  work.  If  a 
ship  have  three  leaks  and  two  be  stopped,  the  third 
will  surely  sink  the  ship.  So  repentance  that  is  not 
followed  by  a  change  of  conduct,  is  not  worth  any- 
thing; neither  is  a  change  of  conduct  that  is  not 
produced  by  a  complete  and  radical  change  of  mind, 
of  any  value.  This  change  of  mind  is  so  fundamen- 
tal in  true  repentance  that  in  the  Scriptures  it  is 
likened  to  a  creation,  a  new  birth  ;  to  old  things  pass- 
ing away,  and  all  things  becoming  new.  The  soul 
sees  itself  and  the  world  around  differently,  the  Bible 
is  a  new  book,  the  Church  becomes  more  precious, 
and  God  holds  a  direct  and  immediate  connection 
with  all.  Life  instead  of  being  an  end  in  itself,  is  but 


EARNESTNESS.  697 

a  preparatory  stage  of  existence  for  the  life  which 
is  to  come. 

Of  course,  the  strength  and  degree  of  this  change 
and  these  new  views  will  vary  with  different  minds,  but 
there  can  be  no  genuine  Biblical  repentance  in  which 
no  change  appears.  Neither  is  that  repentance  genu- 
ine which  does  not  include  sorrow  for  sin,  and  strong 
crying  to  God  for  mercy.  There  are  a  great  many 
who  will  say,  "I  wish  I  had  done  differently  ;  I  might 
have  done  better.  I  am  sorry  I  did  not."  But  they 
do  not  follow  this  confession  by  asking  God  to  for- 
give them.  Now,  repentance  is  designed  to  lead  to 
this  point,  precisely,  and  if  it  does  not  lead  there, 
then  no  good  results  come  therefrom.  Repentance 
without  amendment  is  like  pumping  water  from  a 
ship  and  not  stopping  the  leaks.  We  all  have  after- 
thoughts and  second  thoughts  which  are  better  than 
the  first  ones ;  we  all  naturally  gain  a  little  new  light 
by  experience,  day  by  day.  But  this  is  very  different 
from  the  light  imparted  by  God's  truth  and  spirit 
which  leads  to  conviction  of  sin,  and  broken-heart- 
edness  and  deep  contrition  before  Him,  and  makes 
the  soul  cry  out  like  blind  Bartimeus,  "  Oh,  Lord, 
have  mercy  on  me,  have  mercy  on  me." 

EARNESTNESS. 

There  is  very  little  danger  of  one's  being  too  much 
in  earnest  about  repentance,  or  too  thorough  in  re- 
form. Most  souls  fail  in  religious  life  because  they 
are  not  earnest  and  thorough  enough.  "  He  that 
humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted."  Genuine  humil- 
ity before  God,  and  broken-heartedness  and  contri- 


698  CONSEQUENCES. 

tion  of  soul  constitute  the  only  soil  out  of  which  the 
plant  of  repentance  will  grow.  Says  the  sainted 
Rutherford,  "I  pray  you  dig  deep.  Christ's  palace- 
work  and  his  new  dwelling  laid  upon  hell  felt  and 
feared,  is  most  firm  ;  and  heaven  grounded  and  laid 
upon  such  a  fear  is  sure  work  which  will  not  wash 
away  with  wintry  storms." 

Does  any  one  ask,  How  shall  I  secure  this  frame  of 
mind  ?  We  answer,  by  asking  God  in  prayer  to  show 
you  all  things  in  their  true  light  and  true  relations. 
Perhaps  no  other  direction  is  necessary  than  this  one, 
simply  pray  for  light  and  knowledge  ;  "Ask  arid  ye 
shall  receive ;  seek  and  ye  shall  find,  knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened  to  you."  Not  simply  ask  once,  but 
continually,  until  you  feel  that  God  has  heard  and 
answered  your  cries  and  entreaties. 

CONSEQ  UENCES. 

And  what  are  the  consequences  or  results  of  such 
repentance  ?  It  brings  pardon  or  forgiveness  of  sins. 
In  fact,  this  is  the  object  of  it.  A  long,  dark  cata- 
logue of  past  transgressions  must  be  washed  away  by 
the  blood  of  the  atonement,  else  they  will  rise  up  in 
the  judgment  and  confront  us  like  so  many  specters 
and  ghosts.  We  must  feel,  before  we  are  saved,  that 
God  for  Christ's  sake  (not  for  ours)  has  said  to  us, 
"  Thy  sins  which  are  many,  are  all  forgiven  ;  go  in 
peace,  and  sin  no  more."  And  this  is  a  distinct  and 
peculiar  consciousness  which  the  soul  cannot  feel  un 
til  it  has  actually  received  the  pardon.  When  Bun- 
yan's  Pilgrim  started  from  the  city  of  Destruction  to 
seek  the  heavenly  land,  he  felt  weighed  down  by  a 


PEACE    TO    THE    SOUL.  699 

great  burden  of  guilt  which  he  carried  along  with 
him,  and  which  he  could  not  get  rid  of  by  his  own 
efforts.  And  so  he  is  pictured  as  carrying  a  great 
burden  on  his  back.  But  by  and  by  he  came  to  the 
hill  Difficulty,  at  the  top  of  which  stood  the  Cross. 
He  began  slowly  to  ascend.  Foes  were  without,  and 
fears  within.  He  was  downcast  and  despondent. 
The  air  all  about  him  was  full  of  evil  spirits  whisper- 
ing in  his  ear,  or  tormenting  him  with  doubts.  But 
still  he  pressed  on.  At  length,  after  many  groanings 
and  strugglings,  he  reached  the  top  and  threw  him- 
self down  exhausted  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  At  that 
moment  his  burden  of  sin  and  guilt  was  loosened, 
and  rolled  away  down  the  hill,  and  the  poor  pilgrim 
never  saw  it  any  more. 

Now,  this  is  a  picture  or  allegory  of  what  takes 
place  in  the  soul  as  one  of  the  consequences  or  re- 
sults of  repentance.  Repentance  is  seeking  forgive- 
ness at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  pardon  is  the  sense 
of  release  within.  It  may  not  be  as  vivid  as  this  in 
every  case,  very  likely  it  will  not  be  ;  but  something 
analogous  to  it,  it  must  be.  All  must  and  will  feel 
that  God  has  pardoned  the  past,  through  the 
atonement  provided  by  his  Son. 

PEACE  TO  THE  SOUL. 

Furthermore,  repentance  brings  a  sense  of  peace 
to  the  soul ;  peace  of  conscience,  peace  of  mind. 
Being  created  in  God's  image,  a  part  of  that  image 
consists  in  the  power  of  conscience  to  approve  or 
condemn.  God  has  not  only  written  out  his  law  and 
placed  it  before  us,  but  he  has  also  written  it  out 


700  PEACE    TO    THE    SOUL. 

within  us,  and  we  carry  it  about  with  us  wherever 
we  go.  The  voice  of  conscience  within,  as  far  as  it 
goes,  is  the  same  as  the  voice  of  God  without  and 
above.  And  this  conscience,  until  it  becomes  dead 
and  seared,  and  wholly  inoperative  within,  tells  us, 
like  a  holy  and  upright  judge,  when  we  do  right  and 
when  we  do  wrong.  It  says  with  an  authority  that 
cannot  be  questioned,  "  Thou  shalt,  and  thou  shalt 
not."  And  whenever  we  disobey  its  mandates  then 
it  reproves,  and  stings,  and  punishes.  And  of  all  the 
torments  which  one  can  feel,  nothing  is  so  fearful  to 
bear  as  the  stings  of  an  angry  conscience.  It  is  the 
next  thing  to  an  angry  God.  It  is  likened  in  the 
Scriptures  to  the  gnawings  of  a  worm  that  never  dies, 
and  the  torment  of  a  fire  that  is  never  quenched. 

But  proper  repentance  brings  us  a  peace  of  con- 
science ;  not  a  deadness,  but  a  sense  of  rest  and  ap- 
proval. When  we  lie  down  at  night  instead  of  going 
to  sleep  with  an  aching  pain  of  heart,  the  soul  feels 
that  its  peace  is  made  with  God,  and  that  if  it  dies 
before  the  morning  light  shall  dawn,  God  will  re- 
ceive it  to  a  better  home  above.  When  we  go  out  or 
come  in,  instead  of  feeling  a  constant  dread  of  disas- 
ter, there  is  a  consciousness  that  God  is  over  all,  and 
will  do  nothing  amiss.  And  at  last,  repentance 
toward  God  and  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  will 
wash  and  cleanse  the  soul  from  every  stain  here,  and 
prepare  it  for  that  everlasting  fullness  of  rest  and  joy 
found  only  at  God's  right  hand  above.  As,  says  a 
noted  preacher :  "  When  a  man  undertakes  to  repent 
toward  his  fellow-men,  it  is-  like  repenting  straight 
up  a  precipice  ;  when  he  repents  toward  law,  it  is  like 
repenting  into  a  crocodile's  jaws  ;  when  he  repents 


PEACE    TO    THE    SOUL. 


701 


toward  public  sentiment,  it  is  throwing  himself  into 
a  thicket  of  brambles  and  thorns ;  but  when  he  re- 
pents toward  God,  he  repents  toward  all  love  and 
delicacy.  God  receives  the  soul  as  the  sea  a  bather, 
and  returns  it  again  purer,  whiter,  and  happier  than 
he  took  it." 


702  SIN    AND    PARDON. 


AND    PARDON. 


"I  need  thee,  mighty  Saviour! 

For  I  am  full  of  sin; 
My  soul  is  dark  and  guilty, 

My  heart  is  dead  within; 
I  need  a  cleansing  fountain 

Where  I  can  always  flee  — 
The  blood  of  Christ  most  precious, 

The  sinner's  perfect  plea." 


jHAT  is  sin?  The  Bible  answers,  Sin  is 
a  transgression  of  the  Law.  What  is 
crime  ?  The  statute-book  answers  in  the 
same  words,  Crime  is  a  transgression  of 
the  law.  What,  then,  is  the  difference 
between  sin  and  crime?  In  essence,  in  spirit,  none 
at  all.  Sin  is  crime,  and  crime  is  sin.  Crime  is  a 
word  usually  applied  to  civil  offences,  and  sin  to 
moral  offences,  but  in  both  cases  the  moving  principle 
is  the  same.  One  is  an  offence  against  man,  th*e 
other  against  God,  but  both  are  transgressions  of  law 
which  make  the  transgressor  guilty,  and  subject  him 
to  penalty  and  punishment  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  offence.  Consequently,  every  man  who  has 
ever  broken  one  of  God's  laws,  is  a  criminal  in  God's 
sight.  He  is  looked  upon  as  such,  treated  as  such, 
and  unless  pardoned  through  Christ,  will  and  must 
be  punished  as  such,  at  the  last. 


HUMAN    LAW.  703 

Outside  of  the  Bible,  sin  is  very  generally  regarded 
as  simply  a  weakness,  a  fault,  a  failing,  or  an  infirm- 
ity ;  something  that  all  men  are  exposed  to,  and 
which  therefore  ought  to  be  passed  over  lightly. 
You  say  to  any  man  that  he  is  a  sinner,  and  he  will 
readily  admit  the  fact,  sometimes  with  a  smile,  even, 
and  by  looks  and  actions,  if  not  by  words,  reply : 
"  That  is  nothing  strange  or  unusual.  There  is 
nothing  remarkable  or  serious  about  that." 

Yes,  there  is  something  very  serious  about  that. 
Is  it  a  light  thing  to  be  a  criminal  in  the  eyes  of  the 
civil  law  ?  To  go  about  feeling  that  you  are  unsafe 
anywhere  ;  that  you  are  liable  to  be  arrested  any  mo- 
ment, and  made  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  your  crime  ? 
Undoubtedly  the  most  unhappy  being  on  earth  is  a 
guilty  criminal.  By  his  transgression  of  the  law,  he 
has  broken  off  his  friendly  relations  with  everything 
around  and  within  him.  He  has  broken  off  friendly 
relations  with  himself ;  he  has  disturbed  the  peace  of 
his  own  mind  and  conscience  and  heart,  and  all  the 
powers  of  his  being  rise  up  to  condemn  him.  He  is 
out  of  friendly  relations  with  society,  and  with  the 
State  in  which  he  lives.  Yea,  more,  the  very  ele- 
ments seem  to  combine  against  him  ;  he  is  afraid  of 
the  whistling  wind  ;  he  trembles  at  the  rustling  of  a 
leaf.  He  is  afraid  to  see  his  own  neighbors  ;  afraid 
of  death  ;  afraid  of  man,  afraid  of  God.  And  why  ? 
Because  he  is  a  criminal ;  he  has  transgressed  the  law. 

HUMAN  LAW. 

Now,  which  is  greater,  human  law  or  divine 
law,  the  law  of  the  State,  or  the  law  of  Heaven  ? 


704  HUMAN    LAW. 

Which  is  most  binding  and  obligatory,  the  mandates 
of  men  or  the  mandates  of  God  ?  All  laws  are  bind- 
ing and  powerful  to  the  degree  that  they  are  inher- 
ently just  and  right.  A  bad  human  law  is  sometimes 
more  honored  in  the  breach  than  in  the  observance, 
but  when  a  law  appeals  to  every  sentiment  of  right 
and  righteousness  within  the  breast,  then  the  law 
enforces  itself,  and  all  men  unite  in  saying  it  must 
and  shall  be  honored  and  obeyed.  But  what 
human  law  can  be  compared  in  the  matter  of  just- 
ness, holiness  and  rightness  with  the  holy  and  perfect 
law  of  God  ?  Therefore,  if  human  laws  are  binding 
and  powerful  because  they  are  good,  the  laws  of  God 
are  indeed  a  hundred  times  more  so. 

Again,  a  law  is  powerful  and  binding  in  proportion 
to  the  weight  of  authority  that  stands  behind  it. 
Thus,  the  laws  of  a  state  or  a  nation  are  felt  and 
feared  more  than  those  of  a  single  society  or  district, 
and  a  state  criminal  is  regarded  as  tinged  with  a 
deeper  dye  of  guilt  than  the  mere  offender  against 
some  purely  local  enactment.  Then,  what  solemnity 
and  power  there  is  in  a  trial  before  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  nation,  where  the  whole  national  power  sits 
enthroned  in  state,  and  stands  ready  to  descend  in  a 
crushing  blow  upon  the  life,  or  person,  or  property 
of  the  offender.  But  what  human  court  can  compare 
for  a  moment  with  the  court  of  the  Supreme  Ruler 
above,  who  is  the  author  of  our  lives,  and  the  Maker 
of  the  world  ? — that  court  which  sits  in  eternal 
session  around  the  great  white  throne,  where  the 
books  are  ever  opened,  and  the  officers  of  justice 
stand  ever  ready  to  discharge  their  duty  ? 

Verily,  then,  if  it  is  a  terrible  thing  to  be  a  criminal 


DIVINE    LAW.  705 

in  the  eyes  of  men,  how  much  more  terrible  to  stand 
condemned  as  a  sinner  before  God  ?  All  earthly 
penalties  are  not  to  be  named  beside  the  penalties  of 
moral  law.  As  Christ  said,  "  Fear  not  those  who 
can  kill  the  body,  and  after  that  have  no  more  that 
they  can  do,  but  I  will  forewarn  you  whom  ye  should 
fear.  Fear  him  who  hath  power  to  cast  both  soul 
and  body  into  hell ;  yea,  I  say  unto  you,  fear  him." 

Law,  under  all  circumstances,  is  something  not  to 
be  trifled  with ;  is  something  that  cannot  be  broken 
with  impunity.  Properly  defined,  law  is  a  rule  of 
action  prescribed  by  the  supreme  power  of  a  state  or 
nation  for  the  government  of  its  subjects ;  a 
rule  to  which  all  rational  beings  are  bound  to  yield 
obedience,  or  be  exposed  to  punishment.  This  is 
human  law,  applying  only  to  conduct,  or  external 
life. 

DIVINE  LAW. 

But  what  is  Divine  Law?  It  is  not  only  a  rule  of 
action  relating  to  conduct,  but  also  a  rule  of  action 
relating  to  thought,  motives,  and  feelings.  While 
human  law  can  only  reach  the  outside,  the  divine  law 
takes  hold  of  the  heart,  as  well  as  the  life  ;  regulates 
both  the  internal  and  external.  Consequently,  it  is 
far  easier  to  transgress  divine  law  than  human, 
because  we  sin  in  thought  and  feeling  much  more 
frequently  than  in  deed,  and  the  results  are  far  more 
disastrous.  This  divine  law  was  summed  up  by  the 
Great  Lawgiver  himself  in  these  two  commandments  : 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself."  All  other  moral 


706  JUSTICE    AND    PROVIDENCE. 

statutes,  he  said,  grew  out  of  these  two  ;  and  he  that 
offended  in  one  point  was  guilty  of  all. 

By  referring  back  for  a  moment  to  the  definition 
first  given,  it  will  be  noticed  that  Law  is  an  enact- 
ment by  the  supreme  power  in  every  case ;  conse- 
quently, it  is  the  last  and  final  utterance  of  that 
power,  and  from  it  there  can  be  no  appeal.  We 
cannot  go  behind  the  law  power  to  something 
stronger  and  higher,  if  we  can  behind  the  statute 
itself.  While  this  is  true  of  civil  enactments,  it  is  pre- 
eminently true  of  the  laws  of  God.  They  are  the 
embodiment  of  his  own  nature,  and  in  them  are 
found  the  eternal  principles  which  govern  his  own 
action;  consequently,  there  is  nothing  behind  or 
beyond  God's  power  as  embodied  in  his  holy  law. 

It  is  his  last  and  final  utterance  upon  the  subjects 
contained  therein.  There  is  no  appeal  from  them,  no 
repeal  of  them.  God  himself  could  not  change  his 
own  law,  without  changing  his  own  nature  and  being ; 
for  his  law  is  a  reflex  of  that  nature  and  being. 

JUSTICE  AND  PROVIDENCE. 

It  follows  now  that  if  God's  laws  are  broken,  there 
is  no  escape  for  the  transgressor.  Man  cannot 
change  the  law ;  neither  can  God,  without  proper 
satisfaction ;  and,  when  once  broken,  penalty  and 
punishment  must  follow.  The  great  wheels  of  Justice 
and  Providence,  impelled  by  the  force  that  made  and 
upholds  the  universe,  go  rolling  on  and  over  all  those 
who  willfully  place  themselves  in  their  track,  and 
there  is  nothing  that  can  stop  them  but  the  satisfied 
holiness  of  Him  who  made  them. 


JUSTIFIED    OR    PARDONED.  707 

But  is  not  God's  law  set  aside  by  the  atonement  of 
Christ  ?  Not  in  the  slightest  degree.  When  Christ 
took  man's  place  before  the  law,  God  treated  him 
just  as  he  will  treat  all  sinners,  if  they  expose  them- 
selves to  the  fury  of  his  vengeance.  If  the  Law 
could  have  been  set  aside  or  passed  over,  is  it  to  be 
supposed  Christ  would  have  suffered  as  he  did  on 
the  cross?  Not  at  all;  there  would  have  been  no 
need  of  such  suffering.  Of  himself  he  did  nothing 
amiss  ;  he  was  sinless  in  character ;  he  led  an  entirely 
sinless  life  ;  but  he  suffered  on  the  cross  and  in  the 
garden  the  penalty  and  punishment  due  to  your  sins 
and  mine,  reader.  See  him  in  that  Garden  !  See 
him  on  the  Cross !  Behold  the  blackened  sky,  the 
rending  rocks,  the  opening  ground  !  Hark  !  hear  the 
sufferer  moan  in  the  darkness.  Hear  him  cry  out  in 
an  anguish  of  soul  that  can  never  be  known  by  us  : 
"My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me  ?  "  What  does  all  this  mean  ?  What  is  it  for  ? 
Christ  is  enduring  the  penalty  of  Gods  broken  law. 
There  could  be  no  alleviation,  no  diminution  of  rigor 
in  treatment,  even  though  the  victim  was  God's  own 
Son.  Having  assumed  man's  obligations,  he  must 
pay  the  last  farthing  of  the  debt.  And  he  did.  We 
repeat  it,  therefore,  no  power  can  change,  or  repeal, 
or  set  aside  moral  law.  Once  broken,  death  must 
follow,  unless  help  is  obtained  from  Him  who  died 
that  man  might  live. 

JUSTIFIED,  OR  PARDONED. 

But  the  Bible  speaks  of  being  justified,  or  par- 
doned, by  faith.  How  is  this  brought  about?  To 


708  JUSTIFIED,    OR    PARDONED. 

justify  is  a  legal  term,  meaning  to  clear,  or  absolve 
from  guilt.  It  calls  to  mind  a  prisoner  at  the  bar. 
He  has  broken  the  law  of  the  land,  and  is  arraigned 
for  trial,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  death.  He 
is  a  young  man.  His  father  steps  up  and  offers  to 
die  in  his  stead  ;  the  government  accepts  the  transfer, 
and  the  prisoner  is  released.  The  law  cannot  harm 
him  now,  for  he  is  taken  out  of  its  grasp.  So  in 
religious  substitution.  By  acts  of  sinful  nature,  all 
men  are  prisoners  at  God's  bar  of  justice,  and  under 
sentence  of  eternal  death.  But  Christ,  in  infinite 
love,  volunteers  to  take  man's,  and  the  government 
of  Heaven  accepts  the  transfer.  The  sufferings  and 
death  of  Christ  are  thus  declared  to  be  an  equivalent 
for  the  death  of  the  whole  world  ;  and  hence  all  those 
who  believe  in  Jesus  are  released  from  the  law's  pen- 
alties as  far  as  they  relate  to  sins  that  are  past. 
They  are  thereupon  declared  guiltless,  and  stand 
justified  before  the  law,  and  before  God. 

Here,  then,  we  see  the  nature  of  gospel  pardon.  It 
is  far  better  than  any  earthly  release  can  be.  For  ex- 
ample, a  father  might  take  his  son's  place  in  enduring 
the  punishment  allotted  him,  but  he  could  not  cleanse 
the  son's  heart  from  guilt.  The  son,  having  actually 
committed  a  crime,  has  stained  his  soul  with  guilt,  as 
well  as  his  name  and  character.  The  father  might 
release  him  from  the  court,  and  the  prison,  and  the 
scaffold,  but  as  the  son  went  out  again  into  the 
world,  he  would  go  as  a  guilty  man  still.  Before  he 
could  be  perfectly  free  or  pure,  the  crimson  stains  of 
sin  and  crime  must  be  washed  from  his  heart,  as  well 
as  from  his  public  name  and  record.  And  this  no 
earthly  power  could  do. 


JUSTIFIED,    OR    PARDONED.  709 

But  when  sinners  are  saved,  and  pardoned  before 
God  by  faith  in  Christ,  not  only  are  they  released 
from  the  hold  of  the  law ;  .not  only  declared  guiltless, 
and  so  released  from  eternal  death  and  banishment ; 
but  at  the  same  time  they  are  made  pure  in  heart. 
Cleansed  outwardly,  and  cleansed  inwardly ;  justified 
legally,  and  made  white  and  holy  actually.  What  a 
great  salvation  is  this!  The  Cross  of  Jesus  satisfies 
God,  and  also  changes  the  heart  of  man.  Here  is 
the  two-fold  action  of  redemption — one  part  relating 
to  the  law,  and  one  to  the  soul. 

The  guilty  son  referred  to  in  the  illustration,  when 
he  saw  himself  free  and  pardoned,  would  doubtless 
feel  a  momentary  sense  of  peace  and  joy  within  ;  but 
if  he  were  actually  guilty,  the  old  wound  of  remorse 
would  soon  re-open.  The  remembrance  of  his  crime, 
the  actual  presence  of  guilt  in  his  soul,  would  be  a 
constant  source  of  torment  to  him,  even  if  released 
from  punishment  and  death.  But  in  the  case  of  the 
Christian  believer,  who  is  justified  before  the  law,  and 
so  released  from  death,  there  goes  along  with  it  an 
actual  change  of  heart ;  so  that  his  peace  is  not 
momentary,  but  constant  and  abiding.  As  the 
Scriptures  declare,  it  is  like  a  river — broad,  deep,  and 
full,  never  drying  up,  never  flowing  backward. 

Again,  the  son  would  also  have  his  life  embittered 
constantly  by  the  thought  that,  although  he  had 
escaped  destruction  himself,  yet  he  had  forever  put 
out  the  life  of  his  father.  But  in  the  Christian  plan 
of  salvation,  the  sustitute  not  only  dies,  but  rises 
again,  and  ever  lives  at  God's  right  hand ;  so  that  the 
sorrow  for  having  caused  Christ's  death  is  speedily 
turned  into  rejoicing,  by  reflecting  that  the  Saviour 


7IO  FAITH    OF   THE    HEART. 

burst  the  bonds  of  death,  after  paying  the  penalty, 
and  ascended  up  on  high,  where  he  now  waits  to 
bless  and  receive  his  own. 

Nothing  could  be  more  complete  or  perfect  than 
such  a  pardon.  By  the  sufferings  and  death  of 
Christ  in  man's  behalf,  the  believer's  past  sins  are 
expunged  from  the  Book  of  Life  above,  and  at  the 
same  time  washed  away  within,  leaving  him  pure, 
clean,  and  guiltless,  both  legally  and  actually.  Of 
course,  he  can  go  on  and  rush  into  sin  again,  and  so 
become  stained  anew ;  but  with  regard  to  the  past, 
God  says  :  "As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so 
far  have  I  removed  thy  transgressions  from  thee." 
And  again  :  "  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they 
shall  be  made  as  white  as  wool ;  though  red  like 
crimson,  they  shall  be  as  snow." 

FAITH  OF  THE  HEART. 

What  is  the  price  or  condition  of  this  pardon  ? 
Simply  faith  in  the  work  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
But  this  faith  must  be  a  true,  inward,  saving  faith. 
The  justification  is  a  gospel  justification,  and  it  can 
only  be  enjoyed  by  a  gospel  faith  on  the  part  of  the 
recipient.  And  what  is  this  ?  It  is  a  faith  of  the 
heart.  "  With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righteous- 
ness." Ordinary  faith  is  nothing  more  than  a  mere 
mental  apprehension,  an  assent  or  nod  of  the  mind ; 
it  can  be  held  without  affecting  the  heart  or  life  at 
all.  It  is  held  by  men  in  general,  one  way  and  an- 
other ;  by  the  business-man  toward  his  debtors,  where 
it  is  called  commercial  faith.  It  is  held  by  the  schol- 
ar toward  the  statements  he  finds  in  books,  and  this 


FAITH    OF    THE    HEART.  Jll 

is  mere  intellectual  faith.  It  is  held  by  the  world  in 
general  toward  the  Bible  and  its  contents,  and  this 
is  simply  historical  faith.  But  the  faith  here  men- 
tioned which  justifies  and  releases  the  soul  from  sin, 
is  something  more  than  all  these,  although  it  includes 
all  these.  It  is  a  faith  of  the  heart,  which  works  by 
love.  Its  chief  and  distinguishing  characteristic  is, 
that  it  leads  to  a  complete  surrender  of  the  will  and 
mind  to  the  control  of  another.  Before  any  soul 
savingly  believes  on  Christ,  it  first  surrenders  all  to 
him,  gives  up  all  for  him,  loves  him,  and  obeys  him, 
and  then  it  has  gospel  faith.  This  is  believing  with 
the  heart.  Henceforth  the  soul  is  not  its  own,  but 
belongs  to  Christ. 

To  illustrate  :  A  man  traveling  comes  to  the  bank 
of  a  wide,  perilous  stream.  He  must  cross  it  in 
order  to  gain  the  opposite  shore  where  his  treasure 
lies.  The  other  shore  is  hidden  by  a  veil  of  mist. 
He  looks  forward  and  can  see  only  a  few  feet  from 
where  he  stands.  The  sky  is  threatening  overhead, 
and  there  strikes  on  his  ear  the  roar  of  the  waters  in 
front.  At  the  shore  he  sees  a  man  with  a  small  boat 
—only  large  enough  in  fact,  for  two — one  and  the 
pilot.  The  traveler  begins  to  question  :  "  Can  you 
take  me  across  the  river  safely?"  I  can.  "  Do  you 
warrant  the  passage?"  I  do.  "  How  long  have  you 
been  here  ?  "  Very  many  years — a  long,  long  time. 
"  Have  you  carried  many  across  ?  "  Yes,  there  is  a 
large  city  full  whom  you  will  meet  on  the  other  side. 
"  Is  there  any  other  way  of  getting  across  ?  "  No  safe 
way.  Farther  up  the  stream  is  the  remnant  of  an 
old  bridge  which  promises  well  at  the  start,  but  it 
does  not  reach  to  the  opposite  bank  ;  and  although 


712  FAITH    OF    THE    HEART. 

thousands  upon  thousands  have  tried  it,  not  one 
among  them  all  ever  gained  the  other  shore  in  safety. 
Very  many  come  along  here  every  day  and  inquire 
for  the  bridge,  and  go  forward  ;  but,  as  I  said  before, 
the  bridge  is  old,  and  full  of  rottenness  and  pitfalls, 
and  the  lifeless  corpses  of  these  travelers  come  float- 
ing past  every  day.  I  see  them  every  time  I  cross. 
"  But  do  you  not  warn  them  of  the  danger  ?  "  Con- 
stantly, but  they  take  no  heed  of  what  I  say ;  they 
suppose  I  want  them  to  patronize  me.  "  What  is 
your  price  for  crossing  ?  "  Nothing  at  all ;  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  city  on  the  other  side  furnishes  the 
passage  free  to  all  who  desire  it.  "  But  is  not  your 
boat  small?"  Yes,  and  purposely  so  ;  it  was  only  in- 
tended for  one  at  a  time  besides  myself.  The  way 
across  the  stream  is  straight  and  narrow,  and  those 
who  go  must  leave  behind  all  their  goods  and  com- 
panions for  the  time  being,  and  intrust  themselves, 
soul  and  body,  with  all  their  interests  for  time  and 
eternity,  entirely  into  my  hands.  They  must  obey 
me  perfectly  while  crossing.  In  short,  I  take  the 
whole  charge  of  them,  and  they  commit  themselves 
wholly  to  my  guidance.  "  Must  I  lose  my  goods  and 
companions  forever?"  Your  goods  you  will  not 
need,  and  your  companions  can  follow,  one  by  one,  if 
they  will.  And  now,  have  you  faith  in  what  I  say  ? 
If  so,  step  in. 

The  traveler  hesitates,  looks  forward  and  backward, 
and  on  either  side,  and  then  slowly  repeats  to  him- 
self, "  I  can  but  perish  if  I  go,  I  am  resolved  to  try ; 
for  if  I  stay  behind,  /  know  I  shall  forever  die." 
And  so,  with  fear  and  trembling  he  steps  down  into 
the  boat,  commits  himself  entirely  to  his  Pilot,  and  is 


THE    RESULTS   ATTAINED.  713 

landed  safely  upon  the  farther  shore.  Now,  this 
Pilot  is  Christ,  the  river  is  the  River  of  Life,  the  city  is 
the  New  Jerusalem,  and  committing  ourselves  wholly 
to  the  boat,  leaving  goods  and  companions  behind 
for  the  time  being,  is  gospel,  or  saving  faith  ;  is  be- 
lieving with  the  heart  unto  righteousness.  This  faith 
is  an  act  of  the  whole  being  ;  the  act  of  self-surrender. 
As  faith  without  works  is  dead,  being  alone,  so 
saving  faith  is  invariably  preceded  by  repentance, 
accompanied  with  confession,  and  followed  by  obedient 
action  ;  and  this  distinguishes  it  forever  from  all  kinds 
of  common  or  general  faith.  If  Christ  frees  us,  he  is 
to  have  control  of  us  from  that  time  forward  and  for- 
ever. We  are  no  longer  our  own,  but  his ;  soul, 
body  and  all. 

THE  RESULTS  ATTAINED. 

A*  word  more  in  regard  to  the  results  of  this  par- 
don of  sin.  Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace 
with  God.  This  peace  is  a  permanent  state  rather 
than  a  transient  feeling,  although  it  includes  both. 
When  the  act  of  faith  is  accomplished,  and  the  sen- 
tence of  justification  pronounced,  this  changes  the 
attitude  and  relationship  between  God  and  our  souls 
immediately,  inasmuch  as  pardon  is  instantaneous  in 
its  effects.  One  hour  we  are  rebels  against  God's 
government,  the  next,  friends,  and  peaceful  subjects. 
One  hour  we  are  exposed  to  death  and  wrath,  the 
next,  free,  pardoned,  and  happy.  One  hour,  liable 
to  feel  the  penalty  of  a  broken  law,  the  next  released 
from  its  grasp  forever,  unless  we  voluntarily  put  our- 
selves back  again.  One  hour,  in  the  Book  of  Life 


714  THE    RESULTS    ATTAINED. 

above  there  is  a  long,  dark  catalogue  of  sins  charged 
against  us,  the  next,  the  page  is  expunged,  and  not  a 
single  blot  or  line  remains.  One  hour,  the  soul  is 
stained  with  crimson  guilt,  the  next,  the  ruling 
power  of  sin  is  broken  up,  and  the  gradual  process  of 
whitening  and  cleansing  is  begun.  One  hour  we 
stand  out  against  God,  defiant  and  stout-hearted,  the 
next  we  are  made  humble  and  submissive.  One  hour 
we  are  unpardoned  sinners,  the  next  God's  children, 
and  heirs  with  Christ.  One  hour  we  are  lost,  the 
next,  saved.  So  great  is  this  transformation  wrought 
by  justification  through  faith  in  Christ !  We  enter 
into  a  state  of  peace  with  God  after  a  sinful  war ; 
peace  within,  and  peace  above  ;  peace  of  conscience 
and  of  mind ;  peace,  springing  from  forgiveness,  and 
leading  on  to  purity  and  holiness. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  God  is  angry  with  those  who 
despise  and  reject  such  a  blessing  ?  The  wonder  is 
that  his  wrath  does  not  burn  against  such  like  an 
oven,  and  consume  them  utterly.  And  this  it  will  do 
at  the  last.  We  must  take  either  the  law  or  the 
gospel  and  then  carry  it  with  us  to  the  other  world. 
Which  will  we  have  ?  Before  we  can  be  saved,  we 
must  be  justified  by  faith,  and  feel  this  peace  with 
God.  Have  we  all  exercised  saving  faith  in  Christ*? 
Are  we  ready  to  do  it  ?  Will  we  begin  at  once — to- 
day— now  ? 


THE    NATURE    AND    POWER    OF    FAITH. 


715 


THE  NATURE  AND  POWER  OF  FAITH. 

"  The  child  leans  on  its  parent's  breast, 
Leaves  there  its  cares,  and  is  at  rest; 
The  bird  sits  singing  by  its  nest, 

And  tells  aloud 

Its  trust  in  God,  and  so  is  blest, 
'Neath  every  cloud. 

**  The  heart  that  trusts  forever  sings, 
And  feels  as  light  as  it  had  wings — 
A  well  of  peace  within  it  springs; 

Come  good  or  ill, 
Whate'er  to-day  or  morrow  brings, 
It  is  His  will." 


HE  Bible  declares:  "Without  faith,  it  is 
impossible  to  please  God."  What  a  sweep- 
ing, absolute  assertion  !  Good  works,  zeal, 
energy,  benevolence,  uprightness  of  life, 
sweetness  of  disposition,  kindness,  faithful- 
ness, steadiness  ;  in  short,  everything  within 
man  is  incomplete  in  God's  sight,  until  it  springs  from 
faith  in  the  soul. 

There  are  three  processes  by  which  we  arrive  at 
knowledge,  or  come  to  conclusions.  The  first  is  by 
the  testimony  or  evidence  of  the  senses,  which  we 
call  sight.  Take  up  a  book,  and  both  eye  and  finger 
tell  the  soul  within  that  a  material  object  is  before  it. 


71 6  DIFFERENT    KINDS    OF    FAITH. 

It  possesses  all  the  known  properties  of  matter — 
hardness  or  density,  extension  or  size,  form,  impene- 
trability, etc. — and  if  asked  how  we  would  know  there 
was  a  book  in  the  hand,  we  should  at  once  confidently 
reply,  because  we  can  both  see  and  feel  it.  This  is 
one  process  of  gaining  knowledge — the  most  simple 
and  obvious  one  of  all,  as  well  as  the  one  most 
commonly  and  generally  used. 

The  second  process  is  through  mental  exercise  or 
logical  deduction,  which  we  call  reason.  This  takes 
us  into  the  region  of  the  intangible,  and  includes  all 
that  knowledge  which  comes  to  us  from  thought,  and 
study,  and  reflection.  By  this  kind  of  evidence  we 
become  convinced  of  the  truths  of  science  and  phil- 
osophy, such  as  that  the  moon  reflects  the  light  of 
the  sun,  instead  of  its  own  light.  This  is  a  matter 
that  we  cannot  determine  by  the  first  process,  nor 
can  we  know  it  through  the  testimony  of  the  senses ; 
but  we  know  it  from  argument,  analogy,  and  experi- 
ment. It  is  a  matter  that  we  reason  out,  and  so 
arrive  at  certainty.  We  observe  all  the  facts,  put 
them  together,  and  then  draw  a  conclusion,  and  say 
we  know.  And  this  process  is  just  as  legitimate, 
regular,  and  valid  as  the  first. 

DIFFERENT  KINDS  OF  FAITH. 

The  third  process  is  through  the  operation  of  the 
faith-faculty  of  the  soul,  by  which  we  take  hold  of  the 
unseen  world  around  and  above,  and  become  con- 
vinced of  the  reality  of  the  invisible.  These  three 
processes  are  like  three  successive  steps  in  the  scale 
of  knowledge-getting ;  each  higher  than  the  last,  and 


HOPE.  717 

all  culminating  in  faith.  The  first  deals  with  matter 
exclusively  ;  the  second  with  mind,  science,  philos- 
ophy, and  art ;  the  third  with  the  invisible  and  the 
unseen — with  God,  religion,  and  the  soul.  And  each 
of  these  three  is  just  as  essential  to  complete  life 
and  action  as  the  other  two  ;  each  has  its  own 
ordained  sphere  of  activity,  which  the  others  cannot 
supply  nor  invade.  Accordingly,  faith  supplies  to  us 
that  which  takes  the  place  of  actual  demonstration  ; 
and  when  a  man  has  true  faith,  he  just  as  really 
believes  a  thing  as  though  he  saw  it  with  his  own 
eye,  or  reasoned  it  out  with  his  own  mind. 

HOPE. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  faith  often  transcends 
both  sight  and  reason,  and  sometimes  contradicts 
them.  As  an  opponent  of  sight,  it  very  closely  re- 
sembles the  action  of  its  twin-sister,  hope  ;  for  "  Hope 
that  is  seen  is  not  hope,  for  what  a  man  seeth,  why 
doth  he  yet  hope  for?"  Hope,  properly,  is  the 
mingled  expectation  and  desire  of  future  good,  while 
faith  is  stronger,  and  goes  deeper ;  being  an  inward 
conviction  and  assurance  of  the  same  good.  But  as 
the  complement  of  sight,  faith  begins  where  sight 
leaves  off,  and  carries  the  soul  farther  onward  or  up- 
ward. Again,  faith  and  sight  may,  and  often  do 
travel  together,  although  they  always  reach  a  point, 
sooner  or  later,  when  sight,  becoming  dimmed  and 
fearful,  retires,  and  then  Faith  has  the  field  all  to  her- 
self and  shows  her  full  strength  and  power  and 
glory.  We  cannot  better  set  forth  the  comparative 
work  of  these  two  powers,  than  by  using  an  allegory. 


;i  8  HOPE. 

A  human  soul  looked  out  of  its  windows  one  day, 
and  after  gazing  long  and  steadily  above,  exclaimed 
in  impatient  disquietude,  "  I  am  not  satisfied  with  my 
present  surroundings  and  portion ;  there  must  be 
some  higher  good  attainable  somewhere,  and  I  am 
determined  to  seek  it.  The  earth  is  good,  but  I 
sicken  of  its  food  alone ;  I  feel  that  I  want  some- 
thing richer  and  purer  and  nobler."  No  sooner  had 
she  ceased  speaking,  than  two  of  her  attendants  came 
to  her  side,  saying,  "  We  will  show  you  an  abundance 
of  treasures  better  than  are  found  in  any  material 
mines ;  and  if  you  will  but  follow  us,  we  will  lead 
you  where  those  wants  you  speak  of  can  be  fully 
met."  "  Most  gladly  will  I  go,"  the  soul  replied,  and 
thereupon  the  three  set  out  to  find  the  Land  of  Fru- 
ition. Their  route  lay  through  the  flowery  fields  and 
kingdoms  of  science,  philosophy,  art,  and  song,  until 
they  finally  reached  the  utmost  limits  of  human 
thought.  At  each  stage  of  progress  made,  the  soul, 
after  receiving  and  enjoying  all  that  her  guides 
brought  her  from  the  different  fields,  made  ever  the 
same  sad  plaint :  "  The  good  you  promised  has  not 
come  ;  my  want  is  unmet ;  is  there  nothing  beyond  ?  " 

Her  guides  began  to  be  in  despair ;  but  at  last  they 
said,  "  One  thing  more  we  can  bring  to  thee,  and  then 
our  limit  is  reached.  In  the  kingdom  of  literature 
there  is  a  Book  in  which,  'tis  said,  are  disclosed  treas- 
ures superior  to  all  the  earth  can  yield.  They  are 
not  visible  to  us,  but  there  is  another  attendant  spirit 
that  can  be  summoned,  who  holds  the  key  to  unlock 
all  this  hidden  wealth,  and  even  to  reveal  still  greater 
and  richer  stores  beyond."  They  brought  the  soul 
the  Bible,  and  then  disappeared. 


HOPE.  719 

In  the  midst  of  desolation  and  sorrow,  and  not 
knowing  what  else  to  do,  the  soul  opened  the  Bible 
and  read  :  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  ;  seek,  and  ye 
shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened."  "  For  he 
that  asketh,  receiveth,  and  he  that  seeketh,  findeth." 
"  Spirit  of  God,"  it  cried,  "  come  to  my  relief,  and 
show  me  the  Way,  and  the  Truth,  and  the  Life." 
And  quickly  a  brighter  light  began  to  shine  around, 
and  another  guide  came  to  her  side,  saying,  "  Oh,  soul, 
thy  companions  were  not  able  to  give  thee  the  good 
thou  didst  crave,  nor  were  they  able  to  lead  thee  to 
the  Land  of  Fruition,  because  they  are  of  the  earth  ; 
their  names  are  Sight  and  Reason  ;  they  have  no 
power  to  scale  the  walls  of  the  material  and  the 
actual.  But  I  come  from  the  land  of  light  and  rest 
above ;  '  from  the  land  of  our  God,  and  the  home  of 
the  soul,  where  rivers  of  pleasure  unceasingly  roll, 
and  the  way-worn  pilgrim  reaches  his  goal  on  the 
evergreen  mountains  of  life.'  Give  me  a  place  on 
the  throne  of  your  affections,  and  put  thy  hand  in 
mine,  never  withdrawing  it,  and  I  can  lead  you  safely 
within  the  crystal  walls."  With  tears  of  joy  and 
gratitude  the  soul  surrendered  itself  to  faith,  and 
was  saved. 

But  faith  is  not  mere  imagining;  on  the  contrary,  it 
always  rests  upon  a  basis  of  either  moral  or  tangible 
evidence.  And  here  we  must  distinguish  again  be- 
tween several  varieties  or  kinds  of  faith  which  exist 
in  life.  First,  and  most  simple  of  all,  is  the  faith 
of  little  children  in  their  parents ;  a  genuine,  unsus- 
pecting, hearty,  and  beautiful  faith,  and  the  type  of 
Christian  faith  ;  a  faith  resting  on  both  moral  and 
tangible  evidence ;  a  faith  that  will  remain  strong  un- 


72O  HOPE. 

til  the  evidence  is  taken  away,  and  then  it  will  speed- 
ily die,  giving  place  to  fear  and  dread.  In  other 
words,  when  the  parent  ceases  to  give  evidence  to 
the  child  of  the  sincerity  of  its  love,  then  the  child 
at  once  loses  its  faith.  This  evidence  on  which  the 
child's  faith  rests,  appeals  to  his  eye  and  heart;  it  is 
seen  in  the  parent's  look,  and  tone,  and  words,  and 
felt  in  the  child's  soul. 

A  second  kind  may  be  called  business  faith,  but 
always,  as  in  the  first"  case,  resting  on  evidence,  and 
ceasing  the  moment  that  evidence  is  destroyed.  One 
firm  trusts  another  only,  and  simply,  because  the  sec- 
ond convinces  the  first  of  its  financial  integrity  and 
ability.  And  this  kind  of  faith  is  so  necessary  and 
important,  that  it  lies  at  the  bottom  of  nearly  all  the 
transactions  of  business  life. 

A  third  kind  may  be  termed  historic  faith  ;  that 
which  is  exercised  in  regard  to  all  books  and  records 
that  come  down  to  us  from  the  past ;  but  here,  as 
heretofore,  the  books  are  valueless  in  our  eyes,  so  far 
as  they  contain  facts  and  documents,  until  they  are 
well  authenticated.  This  kind  of  faith  many  exer- 
cise with  regard  to  Christ  and  the  Scriptures,  and 
suppose  it  to  be  all  that  is  necessary  to  salvation  ;  but 
they  make  a  fatal  mistake. 

Again,  distinctively  Christian  or  Scriptural  faith  is 
no  exception  to  this  law.  No  man  can  exercise  true 
faith  in  the  Bible  as  the  Word  of  God ;  or  in 
Christ,  as  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour  of  man- 
kind, until  the  Bible  and  Christ  come  home  to  his 
soul  as  the  most  central  and  vital  of  all  realities,  and 
real  things.  The  evidence  for  faith  to  rest  on  here, 
is  partly  moral,  appealing  to  the  soul  rather  than  to 


HOPE.  72 1 

the  eye,  and  partly  historic,  satisfying  the  mind.  In 
other  words,  there  is  external  data  sufficient  to  estab- 
lish the  existence  of  Christ,  and  the  authenticity  and 
credibility  of  the  Gospel  narratives,  and  this  is  sup- 
plemented by  the  strong  internal  response  of  our 
moral  natures,  telling  us  in  a  manner  not  to  be  set 
aside,  that  this  is  the  truth,  and  the  truth  of  God. 

A  faith  which  is  purely  blind  and  unreasoning,  that 
rests  on  no  sort  of  evidence  whatever,  we  rightly  de- 
nominate superstition  ;  because  it  is  a  mere  figment 
of  an  uncultured  imagination.  This  kind  is  found 
principally  among  the  degraded  and  ignorant  heath- 
en, bowing  down  to  gods  of  wood  and  stone,  and 
worshiping  fire  and  water,  beasts  and  serpents.  A 
lack  of  evidence  marks  just  the  distinction  between 
blind  superstition,  and  true  faith. 

But  faith,  to  be  distinctively  Christian  or  saving  in 
its  nature,  must  come  from  the  heart,  and  work  by 
love.  And  herein  Christian  faith  differs  from  all 
other  kinds.  The  faith  of  the  heathen  is  made  up  of 
fear  and  dread,  and  leads  only  to  outward  ceremo- 
nies and  forms.  The  business  man's  faith  is  wholly 
mental  in  its  nature,  and  can  be  held  or  not  without 
affecting  the  life  ;  so  is  that  of  the  student  in  regard 
to  books.  The  faith  of  the  child  comes  nearest  to 
that  of  the  Christian  ;  but  in  this,  the  appeal  to  the 
eye  is,  and  must  be  always  stronger  than  to  the 
heart ;  whereas,  in  distinction  from  this,  stands  out  the 
declaration  of  inspired  Christian  experience  that 
"with  the  heart  alone  man  believeth  unto  right- 
eousness." 

We  have  often  tried  to  sketch,  mentally,  the  pro- 
cess of  believing  unto  life,  and  this  would  be  an 


722  HOPE. 

outline  of  it.  God  first  comes  to  the  soul  either 
through  the  printed  page  or  through  the  living  voice. 
Truth  knocks  at  the  gate  of  the  mind  and  seeks  ad- 
mission. But  the  mind  is  pre-occupied,  and  says, 
"  I  cannot  attend  to  you."  Truth  knocks  again  and 
again,  and  finally  secures  an  entrance.  It  then  exhib- 
its before  the  bar  of  the  mind  its  credentials  ;  or  in 
other  words,  submits  its  evidences ;  and  after  exam- 
ination these  are  accepted  and  pronounced  sufficiently 
valid  and  convincing. 

Conversion  however,  has  not  taken  place  yet — very 
far  from  it.  This  is  only  intellectual  or  historic  faith  ; 
the  main  part  of  the  work  is  yet  to  come.  The  mind 
sends  down  word  to  the  heart  or  moral  nature  that 
Divine  truth  is  present,  and  is  earnestly  claiming  its 
loyalty,  its  obedience,  and  its  affection.  The  heart 
can  now  take  one  of  two  courses.  It  can  hesitate 
and  refuse  this  obedience  and  love ;  it  can  take  the 
will,  which  is  the  bolt  of  its  door,  and  snap  it  into  its 
fastenings,  and  thus  bar  the  truth  out,  saying,  "  The 
throne  of  my  affections  is  already  occupied  by  my 
own  selfish  interests,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  dis- 
turbed ;  I  have  no  room  for  another  King ; "  or,  it 
can  throw  back  the  bolt  of  will  and  open  the  door, 
and  give  the  truth  audience,  and  listen  to  its  claims ; 
and,  discovering  them  to  be  of  paramount  and  su- 
preme importance,  it  can  say  :  "  I  yield.  Cast  down 
Self  that  has  so  long  occupied  a  throne  of  power,  and 
do  thou  reign  in  and  rule  over  my  heart,  my  inter- 
ests, my  life.  I  do  now  give  myself  up  in  unreserved 
consecration  to  thee,  and  will  henceforth  live  for  thy 
glory,  as  I  should  have  done  long  ago."  Truth  then 
comes  in,  occupies  the  throne  of  love,  the  intellect 


POWER    OF    FAITH.  723 

yields  its  obedience,  and  thereafter  Christ  is  King  of 
Kings,  and  Lord  of  Lords  ;  and  thus  the  soul  truly 
and  savingly  believes  and  passes  from  death  unto  life. 

POWER   OF  FAITH. 

Having  thus  glanced  at  the  nature  of  faith,  let  us 
now  consider  the  second  main  thought  proposed,  viz.: 
The  power  of  faith.  This  world  and  the  next  are 
almost  always  represented  in  the  Scripture  as  oppo- 
nents, each  claiming  dominion  over  life,  over  time,  and 
action.  And  faith  is  held  up  as  the  agent  by  which 
this  world  is  overcome,  and  a  victory  gained  for  the 
other  and  better  world.  Or,  stating  it  in  other 
phraseology,  this  world  stands  as  the  representative 
of  finite  and  created  good,  and  the  other,  of  infinite 
and  eternal  good  ;  the  one  of  things  seen,  the  other 
of  things  unseen. 

Every  one  knows  by  experience  that  the  eye  takes 
in  evil  by  seeing  it,  and  opens  the  soul  to  all  the 
attractions  and  pleasures  of  this  world,  to  the  serious 
detriment  and  disadvantage  of  those  interests  which 
pertain  to  the  next.  We  all  know,  too,  that  the  soul 
is  ever  ready  to  follow  the  eye ;  that  desires  are 
enkindled  by  sight ;  and  that  the  connection  between 
the  soul  and  the  outward  world,  is  not  only  intimate 
and  close,  through  the  bodily  senses,  but  also  most 
dangerous  to  its  spiritual  life  and  welfare.  And 
hence  the  need  of  .some  power  or  principle  in  the 
soul  by  which  the  inordinate  influence  of  this  world 
upon  one's  spiritual  well-being,  can  be  at  least  partly 
counteracted. 

And  just  this  power  of  principle,  God  in  his  rich 


724  WHAT    FAITH    BRINGS    TO    VIEW. 

goodness  and  mercy  has  given  us  in  the  power  of 
Christian  faith ;  the  power  of  taking  hold  of  the 
unseen ;  the  power  which  can  bring  down  eternal 
realities  into  our  souls,  and  make  them  even  more 
vivid  to  us  than  the  scenes  of  ordinary  life ;  the 
power  which  can  envelope  us  in  a  spiritual  atmos- 
phere ;  the  power  that  can  make  us  regard  every 
action  here,  as  the  starting  of  a  wave  of  influence 
which  stops  not  in  its  course  until  it  strikes  against 
the  shores  of  eternity. 

Now,  if  any  one  asks  how  faith  brings  about  this 
most  desirable  result,  we  answer:  In  the  same  way 
that  the  morning  sun  puts  out  the  stars,  by  eclipsing 
them  ;  by  overcoming  them  with  superior  light  and 
glory,  by  extinguishing  them  in  brilliancy  of  a  higher 
and  stronger  order.  God  does  not  act  so  unwisely 
as  to  command  us  to  crucify  our  love  for  this  world, 
and  then  give  us  nothing  to  take  the  place  of  it.  On 
the  contrary,  by  this  divine  and  miraculous  power  of 
faith,  he  enables  us  to  so  connect  ourselves  with  the 
future  and  eternal  world,  that  its  superior  attraction 
shall  overcome  and  render  harmless  the  seductive 
evils  and  pleasures  of  this. 

WHAT  FAITH   BRINGS    TO    VIEW. 

Thus,  to  take  the  place  of  the  splendor  and  pleas- 
ures of  earthly  cities,  Faith  brings  to  view  the  city  of 
the  New  Jerusalem,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God, 
whose  walls  are  jasper,  and  whose  gates  are  pearl, 
and  whose  foundations  are  eternal ;  and  Faith  enables 
the  soul  to  live  within  those  gates,  and  to  walk  those 
streets,  and  to  sit  down  beneath  that  tree  of  life.  In 


THE  VICTORY    THAT    OVERCOMETH.  725 

the  place  of  these  earthly  treasure-houses,  Faith  sum- 
mons us  to  deposit  enduring  riches  in  heavenly  vaults 
where  no  casualty  can  befall  them,  and  where  no 
burglar  ever  penetrates.  To  keep  us  from  loving  our 
homes  with  all  their  conveniences  and  luxuries  too 
fondly,  Faith  points  to  a  heavenly  mansion  in  our 
Father's  home  above.  To  enable  the  soul  to  release 
itself  from  a  thraldom  to  social  folly  and  the  gay 
vortex  of  pride,  and  vanity,  and  display,  Faith  lifts  it 
up  into  communion  and  companionship  with  the  holy 
and  pure  society  of  heaven,  and  bids  it  slake  its 
thirst  at  fountains  whose  waters  inspire,  but  never 
degrade  or  intoxicate.  For  robes  of  earthly  beauty, 
Faith  speaks  of  garments  of  glory  that  wax  riot  old, 
and  of  a  robe  of  righteousness  in  which  all-perfect 
heavenly  dress,  our  souls  may  forever  shine.  And 
while  we  are  necessarily  engaged  in  earthly  traffic 
and  commercial  pursuits,  Faith  invites  us  to  carry  on 
holy  trade  and  barter  with  the  land  that  is  filled  with 
heavenly  spices  and  provisions  for  immortal  wants. 
And  thus,  at  every  point,  Faith  provides  the  soul 
with  that  which  will  offset  and  counteract  the  influ- 
ence and  deadly  fascination  of  a  life  in  the  flesh. 

THE    VICTORY   THAT   OVERCOMETH. 

The  victory  that  overcometh  the  world  is  only  se- 
cured by  this  power  of  a  living  faith  ;  by  being  so 
persuaded  of  the  truth  of  God's  Word,  and  so  filled 
with  its  light,  and  so  surrounded  by  higher  and  better 
realities,  and  so  impregnated  with  love  for  spiritual 
things  and  spiritual  communion,  that  earthly  objects 
and  attractions  shall  lose  their  hold  upon  us,  and 


726  THE    VICTORY    THAT    OVERCOMETH. 

cease  to  withdraw  our  feet  from  the  heavenly  high- 
way to  a  truer  and  better  life. 

Does  any  one  say  that  all  these  blessed  results  and 
consequences  can  never  be  realized  in  an  earthly  life  ? 
Then  turn  to  the  Bible  and  read  of  Abel,  and  Noah, 
and  Abraham,  and  Sarah,  and  Jacob,  and  Moses,  and 
David,  and  Samuel,  and  then  ask,  Were  these  men 
and  women  more  favorably  situated  than  are  the 
favored  dwellers  of  this  nineteenth  century  ?  Did 
they  have  more  light  than  we,  or  more  spiritual  ad- 
vantages and  privileges  ?  Were  they  not  of  like  pas- 
sions with  us,  just  as  faulty  and  full  of  sin  and  the 
love  of  the  world  ?  And  the  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions will  shame  such  a  thought  out  of  any  candid 
mind. 

Said  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  :  "  I  envy  not  quality  of 
mind  or  intellect  in  others,  neither  genius,  power,  wit 
or  fancy  ;  but  if  I  could  choose  what  would  be  the 
most  delightful,  and  I  believe  most  useful  to  me,  I 
should  prefer  a  firm  religious  faith  to  every  other 
blessing.  For  it  makes  life  a  discipline  of  goodness  ; 
creates  new  hopes  when  all  other  hopes  vanish ; 
throws  over  the  decay  and  destruction  of  existence 
the  most  gorgeous  of  all  lights ;  awakens  life  even  in 
death,  and  from  corruption  and  decay  calls  up  beauty 
and  divinity ;  makes  an  instrument  of  torture  and 
shame  the  ladder  of  ascent  to  paradise  ;  calls  up  the 
most  delightful  visions  of  plains  and  amaranths,  the 
gardens  of  the  blest,  and  the  security  of  everlasting 
joys.  And  where  the  Christian  believer  sees  and  en- 
joys all  this,  the  sensualist  and  the  skeptic  view  only 
gloom,  decay,  annihilation  and  despair." 

The  fact  is,  faith  as  a  power  in  life  is  even  stronger 


FAITH,    THE    GIFT    OF    GOD.  727 

than  sight,  for  by  constant  sight,  as  J.  B.  Walker  has 
remarked,  "  The  effect  of  objects  seen,  grows  less, 
whereas  by  constant  faith  the  effect  of  objects  be- 
lieved in,  grows  greater.  Personal  observation  does 
not  admit  of  the  influence  of  the  imagination  in  im- 
pressing a  fact ;  while  unseen  objects,  realized  by 
faith,  have  the  auxiliary  aid  of  the  imagination,  not  to 
exaggerate  them,  but  to  clothe  them  with  living  colors 
and  impress  them  upon  the  heart.  And  so  the  fact 
is  true,  that  the  more  frequently  we  see,  the  less  we 
feel  the  power  of  an  object,  while  the  more  frequently 
we  dwell  upon  an  object  of  faith,  the  more  we  feel 
its  power." 

FAITH,  THE  GIFT  OF  GOD. 

To  the  inquiry,  How  shall  I  gain  this  wondrous 
power  ?  We  reply  :  Faith  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  a 
fruit  of  the  Holy  Spirit  within  the  soul.  Jesus  is  set 
forth  as  its  author  and  finisher,  and  through  his  inter- 
cession, the  Spirit  is  given  in  answer  to  prayer.  By 
diligent  reading  and  study  of  the  Scriptures,  and  hear- 
ing of  the  Word  ;  by  fervent,  earnest  prayer  for  the  in- 
dwelling of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  by  devout  meditation  on 
heavenly  truths  ;  by  discipline  and  trial,  at  length.the 
filmy  mists  of  earth  will  break  away,  and  the  brighter 
glories  of  the  upper  realm  begin  to  unfold.  But 
think  not  to  acquire  this  power  of  faith  in  all  its  full- 
ness, suddenly ;  imagine  not  that  God  will  pour  it 
into  your  souls,  as  oil  is  poured  into  a  lamp  ;  but  ex- 
pect it  only  as  the  result  of  persevering  prayer  and 
protracted  Christian  experience.  Faith,  like  every 
Christian  grace,  commences  feebly,  but  groweth 


728  FAITH,    THE    GIFT    OF    GOD. 

brighter  and  brighter  until  it  culminates  in  an  open 
vision  that  shall  be  forever  undimmed  and  uninter- 
rupted above. 

And  in  the  pursuit  of  this  primal  Christian  grace, 
Christ  will  be  to  us  our  best  example.  For  he  most 
emphatically  was  in  the  world,  and  not  of  it ;  he  ming- 
led with  men,  but  was  separate  from  sinners;  he  walked 
the  earth,  but  his  soul  was  ever  in  the  skies  with  his 
Father.  "  And  like  some  column  whose  base  is  en- 
veloped in  an  atmosphere  of  pollution,  but  on  whose 
summit  there  streams  perpetual  sunshine,  so  Christ 
walked  the  earth  below,  but  his  soul  was  ever  above, 
and  in  the  light  of  that  other  world  he  viewed  the 
concerns  of  this,  and  conducted  all  his  ministrations 
to  men."  So  must  all  live  who  would  be  his  disciples 
and  followers.  And  when,  like  some  way-worn  trav- 
eler who  is  fainting  beneath  a  burning  sun,  but  gath- 
ers new  vigor  by  thinking  of  his  home  and  loved  ones 
at  the  journey's  end,  we  grow  faint  from  fatigue  and 
are  embarassed  by  a  thousand  cares,  and  are  half 
heart-broken  with  grief,  we  must  gather  fresh  inspi- 
ration and  vigor  by  calling  into  exercise  this  faith-fac- 
ulty of  the  soul,  and  through  it  viewing  the  King  in 
his  beauty,  and  the  supernal  glories  of  the  land 
toward  which  we  hasten. 

"  We  need  no  change  of  sphere 

To  view  the  heavenly  sights,  or  hear 
The  songs  which  angels  sing.     The  hand 

Which  gently  pressed  the  sightless  orbs  erewhile, 
Giving  them  light,  a  world  of  beauty,  and  the  friendly 

smile, 
Can  cause  our  eyes  to  see  the  better  land." 


REGENERATION,    OR    THE    NEW    BIRTH.  729 


REGENERATION,  OR   THE  NEW  BIRTH. 

"  Poor,  wandering  soul !  I  know  that  thou  art  seeking 

Some  easier  way,  as  all  have  sought  before, 
To  silence  the  reproachful  inward  speaking — 
Some  landward  path  unto  an  island  shore. 

"For  poverty  and  self-renunciation, 

The  Lord  yields  back  a  thousand  fold ; 
In  the  calm  stillness  of  regeneration 

Comes  joy  we  never  knew  of  old." 

jMONG  the  many  notable  chapters  in 
John's  gospeJ,  is  that  one  detailing  the 
interview  and  conversation  of  Christ  and 
.Nicodemus.  It  forms,  as  it  were,  the 
impassable  boundary-line  between  truth 
and  error  in  regard  to  the  "  new  man  "  in 
Christ  Jesus,  and  the  new  life  which  Christianity 
introduces.  One  is  inclined  to  feel  that  had  not 
John  written  this  gospel  to  supplement  the  three  that 
already  existed,  and  had  not  this  conversation  with 
Nicodemus  been  recorded,  the  system  of  Christianity, 
as  a  whole,  would  have  been  left  incomplete. 

Let  us  glance  for  a  moment  at  the  striking  features 
of  this  interview.  It  occurred  in  the  night,  and 
probably  late  in  the  night,  when  no  other  visitors 
would  be  present,  and  when  there  would  be  no  fear 
of  detection.  It  was  an  earnest,  confidential  inter- 


730  REGENERATION,    OR    THE    NEW    BIRTH. 

view  ;  not  one  of  mere  courtesy.  Very  few,  if  any, 
hollow,  conventional  words  and  set  phrases  were 
uttered  on  either  side.  It  was  a  fair,  undisguised 
contact  of  two  spirits,  one  human,  the  other  divine- 
human  ;  one  eager  to  learn,  the  other  anxious  to 
teach  ;  the  subject  matter  before  them  being  the  most 
vital  and  profound  that  could  possibly  engage  either 
divine  or  human  thought. 

In  a  limited  and  modified  sense,  the  two  persons 
then  confronting  each  other  were  representatives  of 
two  dispensations ;  of  two  great  epochs  of  time  ;  two 
marked  stages  of  development  in  God's  redemptive 
plan.  On  the  one  side  was  Nicodemus,  a  favorable 
specimen  of  the  better,  more  intelligent,  more  in- 
quiring class  of  the  Jews.  He  was  a  ruler ;  had 
authority ;  possessed  wealth  and  titles  ;  was  looked 
up  to  as  a  guiding  mind.  He  was  a  teacher  of  the 
law  ;  disposed  to  examine  matters  and  inquire  into 
principles,  although  blinded,  as  were  all  the  Jews  ;  he 
was  evidently  dissatisfied  with  the  existing  religious 
condition  of  his  nation ;  was  looking  forward  to  a 
change  for  the  better  ;  had  evidently  kept  his  eye  for 
some  time  upon  the  Prophet  of  Nazareth ;  had 
marked  his  life  ;  had  weighed  his  words ;  had  closely 
studied  his  miracles.  He  was  in  a  state  of  doubt  and 
anxiety.  "  I  will  go  to  him,"  he  thought,  "  and  learn 
from  his  own  lips."  And  so,  when  darkness  had 
shrouded  the  city,  and  the  streets  had  become  still 
and  deserted,  he  sought  Christ's  temporary  dwelling- 
place.  Over  against  him  sat  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
who  alike  baffles  and  needs  no  description. 

Nicodemus  had  made  his  confession,  and  stated 
the  condition  of  his  thoughts.  "And  now,  master," 


REGENERATION,    OR    THE    NEW    BIRTH.  731 

he  doubtless  said,  "  tell  me  what  is  the  fundamental 
principle  of  the  system  you  propose  to  introduce." 
Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  "  Verily,  verily  I 
say  unto  thee,  except  a  man  be  born  from  above  (as 
the  words  may  read)  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of 
God."  Nicodemus  stumbled  at  the  words,  as  thou- 
sands have  since  ;  asked  an  explanation,  which  was 
given ;  and,  more  perplexed  than  when  he  came, 
departed  to  his  home.  But  the  all-important  decla- 
ration had  been  made,  "  Ye  must  be  born  again,"  and 
it  never  could  be  lost,  nor  never  changed.  There  it 
has  stood  upon  the  page  of  Scripture,  and  ever  will 
stand,  as  the  fundamental  principle  of  Christianity, 
the  standard  of  a  true  faith,  the  touchstone  of  saving 
truth. 

Out  from  this  declaration  of  Christ,  and  this  con- 
versation with  Nicodemus,  there  can  come  but  one 
subject  or  doctrine,  and  that  is,  the  new  birth.  This 
is  the  one  specific  idea  which  Nicodemus  failed  to 
grasp,  and  which  thousands  since  his  day,  have  also 
failed  to  grasp.  What  is  it,  therefore,  to  be  born 
again,  or  born  from  above  ?  What  particular  part  of 
man  is  included  in  this  expression  ?  Where  is  the  seat 
and  source  of  the  chancre  ? 

o 

The  expression  itself  is  figurative ;  still,  it  is  a 
wonderfully  apt  and  forcible  figure.  None  other  than 
unerring  wisdom  could  have  made  so  just  and  so 
happy  a  selection  of  terminology.  Of  course  there 
is  no  literal,  outward,  physical  birth.  The  mistake  of 
Nicodemus  was  that  he  apprehended  these  words 
literally,  and  asked  Christ,  with  profound  amazement, 
how  a  man  could  be  born  when  he  was  old.  It  is 
not  strange,  however,  that  Nicodemus  made  this 


732  REGENERATION,    OR    THE    NEW    BIRTH. 

blunder;  the  Jews  as  a  nation,  with  rare  exceptions, 
constantly  perverted  Christ's  teachings,  until  the 
spirit  of  truth  was  sent  to  them  to  open  the  eyes  of 
their  understandings.  But  we  must  not  imitate  Nic- 
odemus  in  this  respect.  The  "outward  man "  as 
such,  including  size,  shape,  features,  proportions,  gen- 
eral outline,  and  contour,  are  just  the  same  before  as 
after  this  new  birth.  The  strength  of  physical 
passions  and  appetites  is  the  same ;  bodily  wants  the 
same.  Nothing  is  changed  in  man  physically ;  no 
organs  given,  none  taken  away.  The  only  effect  of 
the  new  birth  upon  the  body  is  to  turn  its  activities 
into  a  nobler  channel,  and  subdue  and  restrain  its 
ungovernable  lusts  ;  in  a  sense,  sanctifying  its  life  by 
connecting  it  with  higher  purposes  arid  spiritual  aims. 
And  what  is  true  of  the  organs  and  functions  of 
the  body  is  equally  true  of  the  intellect  of  man. 
Nothing  is  given  here  in  structure,  or  taken  away,  by 
the  new  birth.  The  faculties  of  the  intellect  are  just 
the  same  before,  as  after  the  change  ;  no  more,  no 
less.  The  direction  and  moral  character  of  intellect- 
ual activity  is  affected  greatly  by  the  birth,  yea, 
affected  vitally  and  radically,  but  not  the  powers  that 
produce  the  activity.  Reason,  memory,  imagination, 
perception,  all  remain  intact.  Argument  as  strong, 
wit  as  keen,  penetration  as  profound/insight  as  sharp, 
logic  as  good,  are  produced  by  minds  unregenerate, 
as  regenerate.  Some  of  the  greatest  master-pieces 
of  human  thought  and  composition  have  been  pro- 
duced by  such  minds  ;  although  it  is  only  fair  to  add, 
that  no  account  is  taken  in  this  statement  of  that  un- 
conscious, indirect  influence  of  Christianity  on  such 
minds,  which  reached  them  through  the  civilization 


REGENERATION,    OR    THE    NEW    BIRTH.  733 

by  which  they  were  nurtured,  and  from  which  in  great 
measure  they  derived  their  culture  and  power. 

There  remains  yet  undescribed  the  deepest  and  the 
controlling  part  of  man's  nature ;  that  part  which 
governs  his  action,  determines  the  moral  character  of 
his  thoughts,  directs  his  will ;  in  a  word,  the  ruling 
power  in  man.  This  is  the  love  of  his  heart.  Every 
man  pursues  that  end  and  object  of  life  which  not 
only  commends  itself  to  his  mind,  but  which  he  really 
and  in  his  heart  loves  ;  and  whenever  there  is  antago- 
nism between  the  decisions  of  reason  and  the  love  of 
the  soul,  as  all  know  by  experience,  the  love  in  the 
end  triumphs  and  carries  the  man  captive.  Indeed, 
this  love  so  subjugates  the  intellect,  that  very  speed- 
ily a  man  comes  to  believe  just  that  which  he  loves ; 
while  the  will  of  man  is  only  the  executive  power 
that  carries  out  the  heart's  desires.  A  man  can  no 
more  go  contrary  to  this  ruling  love  of  his  moral 
nature,  than  a  rivulet  could  reverse  its  progress  and 
flow  up  a  mountain-side,  instead  of  down.  The 
heart  is  'the  throne,  and  Love  the  king  that  sits 
upon  it. 

But  right  here  we  touch  not  only  the  center  of 
human  personality,  but  also  the  center  and  seat  and 
source  of  evil  in  man.  This  ruling  love  in  the  soul, 
being  a  sinful  love,  not  only  controls  but  contami- 
nates the  man  throughout.  Partly  by  a  transmitted, 
hereditary  bias  toward  sin,  and  partly  by  his  own 
voluntary  choice,  every  man  by  nature  loves  things 
earthly,  more  than  things  heavenly ;  loves  sensuous 
and  material  good,  more  than  higher,  spiritual  good  ; 
loves  his  own  way  better  than  God's  way ;  loves  his 
own  projects  and  plans,  his  own  ideas  and  notions 


734  BORN    AGAIN. 

better  than  God's  revealed  plans  of  life,  better  than 
God's  revealed  truth ;  loves  himself,  the  creature, 
more  than  God,  the  Creator ;  loves  this  world,  as  an 
end  of  being,  better  than  that  which  is  to  come. 

BORN  AGAIN. 

Now,  being  "born  again,"  or  born  from  above,  is 
to  have  this  ruling,  sinful  love  of  the  heart  turned 
away  from  self  and  the  world,  to  God  and  truth. 
Here  is  the  precise,  definite  spot  that  religion  touches 
and  occupies  in  man  ;  here  is  its  fountain-head ;  here 
is  its  throne.  When  a  man  experiences  religion,  this 
love  of  his  heart  is  turned  about,  as  to  the  direction 
of  its  activities,  from  sin  which  is  opposition  to  God, 
to  fellowship  and  sympathy  with,  and  belief  upon 
Christ,  as  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  and  as  in  him- 
self constituting  "the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life." 
The  new  birth  then,  is  a  new  love  in  the  soul ;  a  love 
of  spiritual  good  and  of  divine  truth  ;  a  love  of  God 
as  supreme,  and  of  man  as  created  in  God's  image  ; 
a  love  of  Christ  as  God  and  man  united,  and  so  the 
great  reconciler  and  mediator  ;  a  love  of  the  Bible, 
as  the  word  of  God  ;  a  love  of  Christianity,  as  the 
product  of  Christ's  teachings  and  sufferings  in  man's 
behalf. 

By  this  change  of  heart,  or,  more  accurately,  this 
change  of  love  in  the  heart,  man's  life,  which  was 
perverted  by  sin  and  turned  against  his  own  highest 
welfare,  is  restored  to  its  true  normal  state,  and  flows 
on  according  to  divine  directions  in  the  channel 
which  leads  to  ultimate  and  perfected  glory  at  God's 
right  hand.  Christ  becomes  to  such  an  one  the 


BORN    AGAIN.  735 

second  Adam  ;  the  second  progenitor  of  the  race ; 
the  Author  and  Giver  of  a  new,  true,  higher  and 
spiritual  life  ;  and  as  by  the  lapse  of  the  first  Adam, 
he  became  a  slave  to  sin,  and  the  love  of  his  heart 
was  toward,  and  for  sin,  by  the  life  and  death  and 
resurrection  of  the  second  Adam,  as  applied  to  his 
soul  by  the  Spirit  through  faith,  he  becomes  liberated 
from  this  bondage  to  sin,  and  is  made  free  to  serve 
righteousness ;  in  other  words,  he  is  born  of  the 
Spirit,  or  born  from  above.  Before  this  change  in 
the  direction  of  his  love,  he  could  indeed  do  as  he 
pleased,  but  could  only  please  to  do  wrong  ;  for  the 
sinful  current  of  his  heart  held  him  fast.  And  he 
could  no  more  of  himself  change  that  current  than  a 
man  could  lift  himself  from  the  ground  with  his 
own  hands. 

But  why  is  this  change  or  conversion  of  one's 
moral  affections  called  a  new  birth  f  Birth  includes 
life,  and  being,  and  organism  ;  and  the  phraseology 
would  indicate  that  one  was,  by  this  birth,  created 
anew  throughout.  It  seems  indeed  a  little  thing  to 
change  simply  the  direction  of  the  love  of  a  human 
heart,  and  then  say  the  man  is  born  again  ;  but  the 
change  in  the  direction  of  this  love  insures  a  gradual 
change  in  the  man  throughout ;  because  this  love  is 
the  ruling  power. 

You  drop  a  watch  and  twist  the  mainspring  by  the 
fall,  so  that,  instead  of  keeping  true  time,  it  runs  on 
by  a  standard  of  measurement  wholly  its  own,  and 
very  far  one  side  of  the  acknowledged  standard.  You 
take  the  watch  to  a  jeweler,  and  he  turns  the  main- 
spring back  into  its  former  place,  and  so  establishes 
the  true,  normal  movement  of  the  works  throughout. 


736  BORN    AGAIN. 

What  has  he  done?  He  has  set  the  watch  right,  by 
setting  the  ruling,  governing  part  of  it  right.  In 
properly  adjusting  that,  he  affected  it  throughout. 
Somewhat  like  this  is  the  change  in  the  direction  and 
nature  of  the  love  of  man's  heart  by  the  power  of 
God's  spirit  at  conversion. 

Take  another  illustration.  When  an  insurrection- 
ist with  his  followers  rises  up  in  rebellion  against  a 
government,  and  he,  as  the  leader  of  the  party,  is 
captured,  or  gives  in  his  submission  to  the  regular 
constituted  authority,  does  not  that  one  act  in  itself 
lead  inevitably  to  the  dispersion  or  surrender  of  all 
his  adherents  and  retainers  ?  Even  so  it  is  in  the  na- 
ture of  man  ;  when  Love,  as  king  and  leader  of  all 
personal  forces,  submits  to  the  authority  of  Christ, 
all  the  bodily  and  mental  faculties  follow  in  time  the 
leading  of  the  heart.  And  hence  it  is  written,  "  Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart." 

Christ  himself  explained  this  process  by  the  para- 
ble of  the  mustard-seed,  to  which  he  likened  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  This  seed,  he  said,  was  indeed  the 
least  of  all  seeds,  but,  when  it  is  grown,  it  is  the 
greatest  among  herbs,  and  becometh  a  tree.  So  this 
change  of  one's  moral  affections  from  sin  to  holiness, 
is,  indeed,  so  far  as  outward  appearance  goes,  the 
least  of  all  changes,  but  when  it  is  completed  it  is  the 
greatest  of  all  transformations,  and  becometh  a  new 
existence. 

For  the  birth  of  this  Christ-ward  affection  in  the 
soul  produces  of  necessity  a  new  purpose  and  aim  in 
life ;  new  motives  and  desires ;  new  views  and 
thoughts;  new  choices  and  deeds.  And  when  all 
these  are  changed,  is  not  the  man  "  born  again  "  ? 


A    NEW   CREATURE.  737 

Is  he  not,  indeed,  as  a  new  creature — with  all  his 
evil  ways  and  wrong  desires  put  behind  him — to  be 
kept  there,  by  the  grace  of  the  Spirit,  which  thus 
maketh  him  "born  anew"? 

A  NEW  CREATURE. 

Is  he  not  a  "  new  creature  "  in  Christ,  "  old  things 
having  passed  away,  and  all  things  becoming  new  "  ? 
As  birth  produces  life,  and  life  produces  thought, 
feeling,  willing,  choosing,  acting,  so  all  these  lead  to 
development  and  expansion,  which  culminate  in  the 
perfectly  redeemed  state  enjoyed  by  those  who  shall 
sit  down  at  last  with  Christ  on  his  heavenly  throne. 

Such,  imperfectly  delineated,  is  this  fundamental 
doctrine  of  regeneration  as  set  forth  in  the  Bible 
under  the  figure  of  a  new  birth.  Such  is  the  precise 
and  definite  change  which  it  contemplates  in  man's 
nature,  and  such  are  the  consequences  to  which  it 
leads.  It  is  no  wonder  that  Nicodemus  failed  to 
understand  the  import  of  Christ's  words.  He  was  a 
Jew,  and  a  teacher  of  the  law  ;  he  had  been  trained 
in  outward  religious  ceremonies  exclusively  ;  he  knew 
but  little,  if  anything,  of  inward  religious  life  and 
power.  And  as  he  sat  there  confronting  Christ,  the 
omniscient  eye  of  the  Master  looked  beneath  the 
questioner's  garb  and  outward  seeming,  and  read 
easily  and  accurately  the  state  of  his  heart.  He  knew 
well  that  before  Nicodemus  could  break  away  from 
his  strong  Jewish  prejudices,  the  force  of  his  early 
education  and  religious  training,  the  influence  of  his 
position  in  the  nation,  and  the  example  of  associates ; 
before  he  could  conquer  the  proclivities  and  biases  of 


738  A   NEW   CREATURE. 

his  mental  and  moral  nature ;  before  he  could  become 
a  follower  of  the  persecuted  Prophet  whose  instruc- 
tions he  was  then  secretly  seeking,  a  power  must 
come  upon  him  like  the  power  of  the  spirit  of  truth, 
and  must  change  this  ruling  love  of  his  soul.  And 
hence,  in  answer  to  the  ruler's  questioning  look  and 
words,  Christ  said,  "  Marvel  not  that  I  said  unto  thee, 
ye  must  be  born  again." 

But  yet,  Nicodemus  was  as  favorably  circumstanced, 
outwardly,  for  becoming  a  Christian,  as  any  one  can 
be,  consequently,  what  was  indispensable  to  him,  is 
equally  so  to  all.  These  words  of  Christ  to  Nico- 
demus should  come  home  to  every  soul  with  the 
power  and  pungency  of  a  direct  personal  application; 
because  they  have  such  an  application.  Said  the 
herald  of  Christ  to  the  Jews,  "And  now  the  axe  is 
laid  at  the  root  of  the  tree."  Old  Testament  symbol- 
worship,  and  temple-worship,  and  all  merely  outward 
formalism  was  to  close  with  the  advent  of  Him  who 
came  "  to  thoroughly  purge  his  floor,  that  he  might 
gather  the  wheat  into  his  garner,  and  burn  up  the 
chaff  with  unquenchable  fire."  "The  time  cometh 
and  now  is,"  said  Christ  to  the  woman  of  Samaria, 
"when  the  true  worshipers  must  worship  the  Father 
in  spirit  and  in  truth." 

All  outward  forms  in  religion  are  only  valuable  in 
God's  sight  as  they  give  utterance  to  an  inward  life. 
God  being  infinitely  holy,  and  possessing  infinite  pen- 
etration and  insight  into  character  and  motives,  it  is 
repugnant  to  all  right  conceptions  of  him  to  suppose 
for  a  moment  that  he  could  be  imposed  upon  by  a 
hollow  semblance,  a  mere  form  of  righteousness, 
when  the  ruling  love  of  one's  being  was  still  un- 


A    NEW   CREATURE.  739 

changed.  And  yet,  owing  to  the  predominance  of 
man's  sensuous  nature,  the  inevitable  tendency  of  re- 
ligious life  in  all  ages  is  toward  a  soulless  formalism. 
A  certain  amount  of  outward  religious  observance  is 
apt  to  become  the  mere  habit  of  respectable  life,  and 
habits  of  all  kinds  grow  more  and  more  thoughtless 
the  longer  they  are  continued. 

Says  Gotthold  :  "  A  wild  stock  has  all  its  branches 
pruned  away,  and  is  hewn  down  to  a  span's  length.  It 
is  then  split,  has  foreign  shoots  inserted  into  it,  and 
is  afterward  bound  up.  Then  it  not  only  adopts  the 
strange  shoots,  and  nourishes  them  with  its  sap  and 
vigor,  but  even  permits  them  to  gain  the  mastery  so 
far  as  to  make  it  forget  its  wildness,  and  bear  beauti- 
ful and  delicious  fruit.  In  like  manner,  if  you  take  a 
branch  of  the  wild  olive  and  engraft  it  upon  a  good 
olive,  it  becomes  like  a  new  creation.  That  which 
was  useless  or  worse,  imbibes  the  virtuous  qualities 
of  the  good  olive,  and  produces  its  fruit.  So  in  re- 
generation. The  sinner  can  never  bring  forth  the 
fruits  of  grace  till  he  is  engrafted  into  Christ,  and 
becomes  a  tree  of  the  Lord's  planting." 


74°  BELIEVING    ON    CHRIST. 


BELIEVING   ON  CHRIST. 

«  Oh,  Christ!  thou  art  the  Way! 

All  ways  are  thorny  mazes  without  Thee, 
When  hearts  are  pierced  and  thoughts  all  aimless  stray, 
In  thee  the  heart  stands  firm,  the  life  moves  free: 
Thou  art  the  Way ! 

"Thou  art  the  Light! 

Earth  beyond  earth  no  faintest  ray  can  give; 
Heaven's  shadeless  noontide  blinds  our  mortal  sight; 
In  thee  we  look  on  God,  and  love  and  live: 
Thou  art  our  Light!" 


BELIEF  in  Christ  as  the  manifestation 
of  God  in  the  flesh,  is  the  one  and  only 
distinctive  Christian  belief.  A  belief  in 
the  general  existence  of  God  may  be  said 
to  be  a  universal  religious  sentiment.  Not 
only  do  all  tribes  and  nations  of  men  rec- 
ognize the  Divine  Existence,  but  this  belief  is  also 
common  among  the  devils  in  hell,  who  are  explicitly 
declared  to  believe  and  tremble.  This  belief  is  an 
ineradicable  instinct  of  man's  religious  nature ;  one 
of  those  truths  that  find  their  way  into  the  mind  and 
heart  of  man  through  every  avenue  of  information 
incorporated  in  the  structure  and  functions  of  his 
moral  being.  More  than  this,  the  whole  universe 
proclaims  this  truth  ;  the  heavens  above,  the  earth 


GENERAL    BELIEF.  74! 

beneath,  each  flower  and  leaf  upon  the  earth,  each 
bird  and  insect  that  lives  and  moves,  proclaim  it. 
The  sea  roars  it,  the  winds  whisper  it,  the  storm  thun- 
ders it.  Man's  own  moral  nature  responds  to  this 
truth  ;  reason  demands  and  accepts  it,  conscience  an- 
nounces and  enforces  it.  Given  a  rational  immortal 
soul,  made  in  God's  image,  and  a  world  around  filled 
with  clear  evidences  of  Divine  power  and  skill,  and  a 
belief  in  God's  existence  is  inevitable.  And  this  ac- 
counts for  that  ancient  testimony  of  Plutarch's,  given 
about  the  commencement  of  the  Christian  era,  viz  : 
"  Go  over  the  earth  and  you  can  find  cities  without 
walls,  without  temples  of  art,  without  culture,  but  a 
city  without  gods  and  sacrifices,  no  man  ever  saw." 

It  would  indeed  be  strange,  God  having  created 
the  world  and  left  the  imprints  of  his  workmanship 
upon  it,  and  having  created  man  in  his  own  likeness 
and  image,  with  rational  and  moral  powers,  if  man, 
God's  creature,  living  in  a  world  of  God's  creation, 
should  not  be  able  to  detect  the  evidences  of  his  Cre- 
ator's existence,  and  read  the  handwriting  of  his 
power,  and  wisdom,  and  glory. 

GENERAL    BELIEF. 

There  is  nothing,  therefore,  really  or  distinctively 
Christian  in  a  mere  intellectual  recognition  of  the 
existence  of  God,  or  in  believing  on  God  in  a  gen- 
eral, indefinite  way.  There  is  nothing  praiseworthy 
or  meritorious  about  it,  for  after  a  man  believes  on 
God  in  this  way,  he  has  done  nothing  more  than  is 
done  by  the  most  ignorant  and  degraded  tribes  of 
earth,  nothing  more  than  is  done  by  the  devils  in  hell. 


742  GENERAL    BELIEF. 

In  believing  on  God  in  this  general  way,  he  has 
simply  allowed  his  reason  and  conscience  to  work 
naturally  and  normally,  and  he  believes  because  his 
corrupt  heart  and  desires  have  not  been  able  to  crush 
the  belief  out. 

Neither  is  there  anything  specially  praiseworthy  in 
a  general  belief  in  the  historical  existence  of  Jesus 
Christ,  as  recorded  in  the  four  gospels.  These  four 
gospels  come  down  to  us  bearing  more  evidences  of 
truthfulness,  both  externally  and  internally,  than  any 
other  writings  of  equal  antiquity.  No  man  whose 
mind  is  open  to  evidence  of  any  kind  can  help  be- 
lieving that  there  lived  in  Palestine,  over  1800  years 
ago,  a  most  wonderful  and  extraordinary  being  whose 
name  was  Jesus.  And  to  believe  this  is  no  more 
praiseworthy  or  meritorious  than  to  believe  in  the 
historical  existence  of  Csesar,  Socrates,  or  Hannibal. 
And  yet  a  great  many  suppose  that  if  they  accept 
intellectually  the  mere  facts  of  Christ's  life  and  death, 
they  are  really  and  savingly  believing  on  him  in  the 
gospel  sense.  Whereas,  the  truth  is  that  every  man 
who  believes  in  history  at  all,  is  obliged  to  believe  in 
the  existence  of  Christ,  whether  he  wishes  to  or  not. 
There  is  no  escaping  it,  except  by  a  universal  histor- 
ical skepticism.  He  who  accepts  the  histories  of 
Greece  and  Rome  as  valid  and  authentic,  must  also 
accept  the  four  histories  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  as  re- 
corded by  the  evangelists,  unless  he  be  a  man  desti- 
tute of  all  candor  and  impartiality  of  thought.  And 
only  the  most  incorrigible  now  have  the  hardihood  to 
question  this  point.  And  even  they  who  have  the 
effrontery  to  doubt  the  sacred  teachings  upon  this 
subject,  can  give  no  valid  and  logical  reason  why 


CHRISTIAN    BELIEF.  743 

they  doubt.  They  are  in  the  position  of  a  man  who 
pulls  dov/n  your  house  over  your  head  because  it 
does  not  agree  with  his  architectural  ideas,  and  yet 
gives  you  no  shelter  in  its  place. 


CHRISTIAN  BELIEF. 

t 


All  through  the  New  Testament  it  is  constantly 
reiterated  that  a  real,  whole-hearted  acceptance  of 
Christ,  as  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  constitutes,  as 
we  have  already  said,  the  only  Christian  belief ;  and 
that  without  such  a  belief,  which  includes  not  only  in- 
tellectual recognition  and  acceptance  of,  but  personal, 
unreserved  surrender  to  Christ,  no  man  is  or  can  be 
a  Christian.  A  general  and  even  devout  reverence 
for  God  will  not  save  any.  The  demand  is  specifi- 
cally that  we  believe  in,  accept  of,  and  surrender  to 
Christ,  as  the  Son  of  God,  and  as  God  manifest  in 
the  flesh,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself.  Listen 
to  such  declarations  as  these:  ''The  Father  loveth 
the  Son,  and  hath  given  all  things  into  his  hand.  He 
that  believeth  on  the  Son  hath  everlasting  life  ;  he 
that  believeth  not  on  the  Son  shall  not  see  life,  but 
the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him."  Here  it  is  plain- 
ly taught  that  however  much  a  man  might  try  to  rev- 
erence, and  love,  and  worship  God  as  the  invisible 
Father,  all  such  attempts  would  only  incense  the 
Father  and  make  him  more  angry,  if  there  were  not 
united  with  these  attempts  an  equal  recognition  of 
the  Son  with  the  Father ;  yea  more,  unless  the  belief 
in  the  Son  was  prominent  and  pre-eminent,  more 
near  and  vital  than  the  belief  in  the  invisible  God 
could  be,  if  separated  from  Christ.  And  again  we 


744  GOD    REVEALED    THROUGH    CHRIST. 

read,  "  That  all  men  should  honor  the  Son,  even  as 
they  honor  the  Father.  He  that  honoreth  not  the 
Son,  honoreth  not  the  Father  which  hath  sent  him." 

God,  as  to  the  nature  of  his  being,  is  unknown  and 
unknowable  to  man,  except  through  Christ.  The 
heavens  over  our  heads  indeed  declare  God's  glory, 
but  they  declare  nothing  more,  nothing  further.  The 
universe  is  packed  full  of  the  evidences  of  his  exist- 
ence, but  they  tell  us  nothing  of  what  kind  of  a 
being  he  is,  or  what  are  his  moral  attributes.  Even 
the  Old  Testament  dispensation  was  imperfect  in  this 
respect.  Christ  told  the  Jews  at  one  time,  as  they 
were  boasting  of  their  intercourse  with  God,  that  they 
had  neither  heard  his  voice  nor  seen  his  shape  at  any 
time.  We  are  also  assured,  and  the  statement  justi- 
fies itself  fully  to  our  reason,  that  no  man  can  see 
God  and  live. 

GOD  REVEALED  THROUGH  CHRIST. 

The  work  of  specially  revealing  God  to  men  was 
emphatically  and  pre-eminently  the  work  of  Christ. 
There  is  hardly  a  moral  attribute  of  God,  now  famil- 
iar to  men,  which  is  not  thrown  back  upon  him  from 
the  manifestation  of  it  in  Christ.  We  have  taken 
the  attributes  of  Christ  which  he  personally  mani- 
fested, have  taken  the  revelations  of  God  which  Christ 
communicated  unto  men  by  his  teachings,  and  trans- 
ferred them  to  the  Father ;  so  that  all,  or  nearly  all, 
of  our  present  knowledge  of  God  has  come  to  us 
through  this  source.  Christ  said  to  men,  "He  that 
hath  seen  me,  hath  seen  the  Father."  The  heathen 
philosophers  and  sages  of  antiquity  could  demonstrate 


GOD    REVEALED    THROUGH    CHRIST.  745 

the  existence  of  God,  but  they  could  tell  nothing 
what  kind  of  a  being  he  was.  That  altar  which  Paul 
found  at  Athens  tells  the  whole  story  ;  it  bore  the 
inscription,  "To  the  Unknown  God."  The  wise  men 
of  Athens  knew  and  felt  that  there  must  be,  and  that 
there  was  such  a  being,  but  they  could  find  out  noth- 
ing more.  Likewise,  the  knowledge  which  the  Jews 
possessed  of  God  was  very  imperfect  and  very  incom- 
plete. And  it  has  been  only  since  the  time  of  Christ 
that  men  could  speak  confidently  and  understandingly 
of  the  moral  nature  and  attributes  of  God. 

But  Christ  as  the  God-man  is  a  being  whom  we 
can  at  least  partially  comprehend.  He  wears  the 
semblance  and  exhibits  in  all  points  the  very  nature 
of  man.  We  can  attach  some  definite  form  and 
shape  to  him.  We  know  what  he  did,  and  what  he 
said.  We  have  his  teachings  and  his  commandments. 
We  know  the  manner  of  his  life.  He  is  a  living,  real, 
breathing  personage  to  us.  He  is  not  human  alone, 
not  Divine  alone,  but  Divine-human.  We  can  rever- 
ence him  and  worship  him,  and  we  can  approach  him. 
He  knows  our  frames,  our  joys  and  sorrows,  our 
griefs  and  temptations.  He  is  God,  and  therefore 
strong  enough  to  deliver ;  he  is  man,  and  therefore 
approachable. 

Now,  it  is  just  because  God  by  the  very  infinitude 
of  his  being  is  so  necessarily  removed  from  man,  and 
because  Christ  by  his  Divine-human  personality  can 
come  so  near  to  man,  that  makes  just  the  difference 
between  a  belief  in  one  and  the  other.  The  one 
belief  is  necessarily  abstract,  the  other,  concrete ;  one 
is  liable  to  be  merely  general  and  indefinite,  the  other 
must,  if  it  is  anything,  be  close,  personal,  and  vital. 


746  TRUE    CONVERSION. 

Christ  is  too  real,  too  near  to  us,  to  be  believed  on  in 
in  a  general,  indefinite  way.  Every  man  is,  and 
must  be,  either  for,  or  against  him. 

TRUE   CONVERSION. 

Hence,  in  every  true  and  real  conversion,  the  soul 
is  brought  by  faith  into  new,  and  distinct,  and  con- 
scious relations  with  Christ,  as  its  Redeemer  and 
Saviour.  Before  this  gracious  change,  Christ  is  prac- 
tically nothing  to  the  soul  ;  afterward,  he  is  all  in  all. 
Before,  he  stands  simply  as  a  historical  personage 
whose  life  is  found  in  the  gospels,  and  who  is  said  to 
have  something  to  do  with  the  matter  of  salvation, 
but  just  what,  the  soul  neither  knows  definitely,  nor 
cares.  Afterward,  Christ  is  both  Lord  and  King, 
the  Author  of  life  and  salvation,  the  end  of  the  law, 
a  personal  Leader  and  Captain,  a  perfect  Pattern  and 
Model.  By  this  gracious  change,  the  soul  feels  a 
new  and  distinct  life  within,  which  it  is  sure  it  derives 
directly  from  Christ,  through  the  Holy  Spirit.  And 
the  movings  and  workings  of  this  new  life  produce 
what  is  called  Christian  experience. 

The  importance  of  thoroughly  recognizing  and 
preserving  this  distinction  in  our  thoughts  cannot  be 
over-estimated.  Not  that  there  is  any  essential  differ- 
ence of  nature  between  God  and  Christ,  because  in 
the  deepest  and  truest  sense,  God  is  Christ  and  Christ 
is  God.  But  in  the  economy  of  redemption,  in  the 
working  of  the  plan  of  salvation,  God  has  been 
pleased  to  reveal  himself  to  man  under  a  three-fold 
form,  or  as  three  persons,  constituting  the  indissolu- 
ble and  holy  Trinity.  And  the  center  of  this  holy 


TRUE   CONVERSION.  747 

and  sacred  three,  be  it  ever  remembered  by  us,  is 
Christ  the  Son. 

Conversion  does  not  change  a  man's  essential  rela- 
tions with  God  the  Father.  He  is  as  much  a  creature 
of  God's  power,  and  as  dependent  upon  him  before, 
as  after  belief ;  he  is  as  much  a  subject,  and  under 
the  sway  and  dominion  of  God's  government  before, 
as  after.  The  only  change  produced  by  conversion 
is  in  reference  to  the  attitude  which  the  soul  occupies 
toward  God,  and  God  toward  the  soul.  Before  con- 
version, God  is  angry  with  us,  and  afterward  he  is 
reconciled  ;  and  this  is  all  the  difference  there  is  be- 
tween men  in  their  relations  to  God  at  different  times. 
But  more  than  this  takes  place  at  conversion  with 
reference  to  Christ.  Before  believing,  the  soul  knows 
little  and  cares  less  about  Christ  in  any  way.  He  is 
to  such  an  one  as  a  root  out  of  dry  ground,  without 
form  or  comeliness,  and  possessing  no  beauty  that  it 
should  desire  him.  Before  believing,  the  soul  feels 
under  no  obligations  to  Christ  ;  it  does  not  recognize 
him  except  in  the  slightest  and  most  inconsequential 
manner.  Before  believing,  conscience  within  does 
not  naturally  convict  of  sin  as  committed  against 
Christ,  but  rather  as  against  God,  the  lawgiver  and 
ruler.  Christ  to  an  unbeliever  is  practically  a  super- 
fluity in  the  universe  ;  there  is  no  special  need  of  him, 
no  special  work  for  him  to  do.  He  figures  conspicu- 
ously in  the  Bible,  it  is  true,  but  nowhere  else  ;  and 
to  such  a  soul  the  Bible  is  a  dead  letter ;  therefore 
Christ  is  the  same  as  a  nonentity — simply  a  being 
on  paper. 

But  how  great  the  change  produced  in  that  soul 
who  lovingly  believes  !  Belief  brings  Christ  at  once 


748  CHRISTIAN    CONSCIOUSNESS. 

into  the  foreground  ;  he  is  the  main  actor,  the  chief 
personage.  As  God's  anger  is  removed,  and  his  frown 
disappears,  and  the  law  is  satisfied,  he  seems  to  retire, 
and  Christ  comes  to  the  throne.  The  Father  crowns 
him,  angels  worship  him,  the  soul  receives,  leans 
upon,  adores,  and  loves  him.  Christ  now  becomes 
the  soul's  Lord,  Redeemer,  Saviour,  King,  and 
Leader.  The  soul  enlists  under  his  banner,  and  he 
becomes  commander-in-chief.  His  will  is  law,  his 
word  final,  his  example  the  model  for  imitation.  Or, 
changing  the  figure,  the  soul  by  faith  is  grafted  into 
Christ,  and  henceforth  feels  Christ's  life  and  love 
pouring  into  itself,  and  constituting  at  once  its 
strength,  and  hope,  and  joy.  It  only  lives  spiritually 
by  connection  with  him,  as  the  branch  only  lives 
when  joined  to  the  vine.  Christ  becomes  the  literal 
source  of  spiritual  life  to  such  a  soul.  As  from 
Adam  it  drew  natural  life  with  depravity,  so  from 
Christ,  the  second  Adam,  and  the  new  head  of  the 
race,  it  draws  spiritual  life  with  power  to  obey  and 
love,  and  so  to  acquire,  gradually,  a  real  holiness  of 
character.  All  this  is  included  in  coming  into  new 
and  conscious  relations  with  Christ,  through  a  whole- 
hearted belief  upon,  and  surrender  to  him. 

CHRISTIAN  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

We  can  now  see  that  this  distinct  and  new  Christ- 
ian consciousness,  born  of  faith,  constitutes  the  best 
and  highest  evidence  of  discipleship.  This  term, 
Christian  consciousness,  may  be  formidable  to  some, 
but  it  means  simply  the  mind  knowing  in  itself.  We 
become  conscious  of  an  external  object  when  we  see 


CHRISTIAN    CONSCIOUSNESS.  749 

it  before  us  ;  we  become  conscious  of  an  internal  state 
when  we  feel  its  power.  And  by  Christian  conscious- 
ness we  mean  the  mind's  knowing  within  itself  that  it 
bears  these  new  relations  to  Christ.  The  question  is 
not,  do  we  believe  in  the  existence  of  God ;  we  can't 
help  believing  it.  The  question  is  not,  do  we  believe 
that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  lived  in  Palestine  eighteen 
hundred  years  ago  ;  we  can't  help  believing  that,  if 
we  believe  any  history.  But  do  we  accept  him  as 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  and  have  we  unreservedly 
surrendered  to  him  as  our  personal  Lord  and  Re- 
deemer, and  are  we  daily  following  his  example  and 
obeying  his  words  as  the  law  and  guide  of  our  life  ? 
These  questions  will  settle  the  matter  of  our  belief  at 
once.  No  one  need  be  in  doubt  for  a  single  moment. 
If  Christ  is  to  us  all  that  has  been  stated,  then  we 
are  Christ's  indeed  ;  if  he  is  not,  then  he  is  saying  to 
us,  as  he  said  to  his  disciples  of  old,  "  Ye  believe  in 
God,  believe  also  in  me." 

Not  many  years  ago  there  arose  a  school  of  critics 
in  Germany  known  by  the  name  of  Rationalists. 
Professing  to  discard  all  belief  in  the  inspiration  of 
the  Scriptures,  and  having  constructed  and  laid  down 
their  own  canons  and  rules  of  critical  testing,  they 
proceeded  deliberately  to  demolish  the  Bible,  as  they 
thought,  by  picking  flaws  in  its  statements  and  exhib- 
iting what  they  were  pleased  to  term  its  contradic- 
tions and  inconsistencies.  Being  possessed  of  some 
mental  caliber,  and  occupying  prominent  positions  in 
the  world  of  letters,  they  had,  and  are  still  having, 
considerable  influence  oyer  the  minds  of  the  timid 
and  hesitating. 

But  after  a  while  a  good  and  great  man  arose  by 


750  CHRISTIAN    CONSCIOUSNESS. 

the  name  of  Schliermacher,  who  said  to  these  critics, 
"You  can't  destroy  Christ  in  this  way,  for  the  real 
heart  and  root  of  the  matter  is  beyond  your  reach 
altogether.  While  you  are  quibbling  about  the  Bible 
records,  the  active  Christian  consciousness  of  every 
believing  soul  goes  on  steadily  increasing  and  devel- 
oping, and  is  an  evidence  by  itself  which  overcomes 
the  weight  of  your  objections  faster  than  you  can 
produce  them.  This  Christian  consciousness  which 
Christians  have,  must  be  an  evidence  of  Christian 
life,  and  Christian  life  must  come  from  personal  faith- 
union  with  Christ  himself,  and  you  can't  account  for 
its  existence  in  any  other  way.  And  so,  if  you 
should  sweep  away  the  Scriptures  entirely,  which  of 
course  you  cannot  do,  there  remains  within  this 
Christian  consciousness  undisturbed  and  untouched, 
and  which  bears  its  own  independent  and  pow.erful 
testimony  to  the  truth  of  all  which  you  deny."  Ten- 
nyson put  the  same  thought  in  the  following  form  : 

"  If  e'er,  when  faith  had  fallen  asleep, 

I  heard  a  voice,  l  Believe  no  more,' 
And  heard  an  ever-breaking  shore 

That  tumbled  in  the  Godless  deep; 

A  warmth  within  the  breast  would  melt 
The  freezing  reason's  colder  part, 

And  like  a  man  in  wrath  the  heart 

Stood  up  and  answered,  '/  have  felt?  " 

Men  saw  the  force  of  this  reasoning,  were  reassured 
and  strengthened,  and  Rationalism  ever  since  has 
been  comparatively  harmless,  except  to  those  who  in- 
wardly and  strongly  desire  to  embrace  it. 

How    broad    and    well    founded,    therefore,    the 


CHRISTIAN    CONSCIOUSNESS.  751 

proposition  announced  at  the  outset  of  this  chapter, 
viz :  A  belief  in  Christ,  as  God  manifest  in  the 
flesh  for  the  sake  of  the  soul's  personal  redemption, 
is  the  real,  and  we  may  add,  the  only  distinctive 
Christian  belief ;  and  that  unless  the  soul  exercises 
this  gospel  faith  in  Christ,  which  includes  acceptance 
of,  and  surrender  to  him,  as  its  leader  and  Lord,  it  is 
not,  and  cannot  be  converted  in  the  true  sense  of 
that  word. 

But,  on  the  contrary,  if  one  has  thus  believed,  to 
him  applies  the  soothing  and  assuring  words  :  "  Let 
not  your  hearts  be  troubled  ;  ye  believe  in  God,  be- 
lieve also  in  me."  Though  the  heavens  were  re- 
moved, and  the  earth  should  fail,  and  all  other 
supports  give  way,  on  Christ  the  everlasting  Rock, 
the  soul  can  find  a  sure  and  safe  foundation.  To 
such  an  one 

"  Christ  and  his  love  will  be  his  blessed  all 

Forevermore! 
Christ  and  his  light  will  shine  on  all  his  ways 

Forevermore! 
Christ  and  his  peace  will  keep  his  troubled  soul 

Forevermore!  ." 


75 2  CHRISTIAN    LOVE. 


CHRISTIAN  LOVE. 

"  I  love  thee,  oh  my  God,  but  not 

For  what  I  hope  thereby, 
Nor  yet  because  who  love  thee  not 

Must  die  eternally. 
Not  with  the  hope  of  earning  aught, 

Nor  seeking  a  reward; 
But  fully,  freely,  as  thyself 

Hast  loved  me,  O  Lord." 

IT  the  outset  of  this  chapter,  we  must 
distinguish  sharply  between  love  as  ex- 
hibited in  the  Bible,  and  all  other  forms 
of  its  manifestation.  Commencing  at 
the  bottom  of  the  scale,  the  lowest  form 
of  love  is  simply  animal  passion,  com- 
monly called  sensuality.  Closely  akin  to  this  in  na- 
ture, is  the  love  of  food,  and  drink,  and  dress.  One 
step  higher,  comes  the  love  of  that  which  contributes 
to  mental  pleasure  and  profit,  such  as  love  of  books, 
scenery,  intellectual  association,  etc.  Still  higher 
comes  the  love  of  parents  for  children,  the  love  of 
home  and  family,  and  natural  brotherly  love.  Still 
higher  yet,  because  purer  and  less  selfish,  is  the  love 
of  country,  or  patriotism.  And  highest  of  all,  is  the 
love  of  God,  or  Christian  love. 

All  the  lower  forms  of  love  mentioned  are  merely 
transient    passions  or  feelings,  now  strong,  then  ab- 


ITS    ORIGIN.  753 

sent  altogether.  The  next  grade  is  very  largely  the  re- 
sult of  mental  habits  and  acquisitions  ;  something  that 
can  and  ought  to  be  cultivated  by  all.  The  next 
higher,  parental  love,  is  an  unselfish  instinct,  not  the 
result  of  cultivation  wholly,  but  partly  native,  and 
common  to  animals  as  well  as  human  beings.  Pure 
patriotism,  or  love  of  liberty,  and  law,  and  right,  as 
such,  not  simply  for  self,  but  for  all,  high  and  low, 
rich  and  poor,  is  probably  the  highest  and  purest 
natural  affection  of  which  fallen  human  nature  is 
capable ;  because  it  is  farthest  removed  from  mere 
animal  desire,  and  takes  hold  of  the  deepest  and 
noblest  qualities  of  the  soul. 

fTS  ORIGIN. 

But  Christian  love  is  supernatural  in  its  origin.  It 
is  begotten  in  the  soul  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  is  one 
of  his  fruits.  No  man  can  know  or  feel  Christian 
love  unless  his  soul  is  open  to  receive  heavenly  com- 
munications, unless  he  is  in  immediate  contact  of  spirit 
with  God.  For  John  says  specifically  and  pointedly, 
"  Love  is  of  God,  and  he  that  dwelleth  in  love  dwell- 
eth  in  God,  and  God  in  him." 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  if  Christian  love  comes 
from  God,  it  must  be  godlike  in  character  and  char- 
acteristics. There  will  always  be  certain  marks  by 
which  it  can  be  known.  What  are  some  of  these? 
First,  Christian  love,  like  God,  will  be  no  respecter 
of  persons,  as  such  ;  will  not  be  affected  by  any 
earthly  and  factitious  distinctions,  such  as  eminence 
of  birth,  the  possession  of  wealth,  power,  beauty, 
fame,  etc.;  but  on  the  contrary,  will  regard  highly 


754  ITS  ORIGIN. 

those  excellencies  of  character  which  are  of  great 
value  in  themselves  and  in  the  sight  of  God,  such  as 
faith,  humility,  benevolence,  Christian  zeal — in  a 
word,  spirituality.  Love  of  persons,  as  such,  is 
simply  a  natural  love,  and  not  at  all  Christian  or 
divine  in  its  nature.  Love  of  persons  may  be  proper 
and  may  be  sinful — that  depends  entirely  upon  cir- 
cumstances ;  but  this  and  Christian  love  are  never  to 
be  confounded,  for  they  are  just  as  distinct  and  sep- 
arate in  character  as  is  the  natural  man  and  the 
spiritual  man.  One  is  earthly,  the  other  heavenly. 
One  takes  note  of  the  outside  and  external,  the 
other  of  the  internal  and  spiritual. 

This  natural  love  and  a  spiritual  love,  however, 
may  coalesce,  may  exist  together  in  the  same  mind 
and  heart,  and  at  the  same  time  and  place,  but  still 
their  existing  together  does  not  make  them  one  and 
the  same.  It  is  common  for  all  to  love  persons,  as 
such  ;  to  love  them  for  what  they  can  do  for  us,  or 
for  what  they  have  done  for  us ;  love  them  for  their 
beauty  and  excellence,  for  their  natural  traits  of 
character  or  disposition.  There  may  be  and  often  is 
a  sort  of  flavor  or  relish  about  a  person's  conduct,  and 
appearance,  and  words,  that  suits  our  taste  exactly, 
and  we  love  such  persons  in  spite  of  ourselves.  And 
on  the  other  hand,  there  are  those  whose  presence  is 
distasteful  and  repugnant  to  our  feelings.  But  there 
is  nothing  Christian  about  all  this,  unless  deeper  than 
form,  or  feature,  or  words,  or  looks,  we  discern  the 
lineaments  of  a  soul  for  which  Christ  died,  and 
which  is  to  live  forever  in  happiness  or  misery. 

True  Christian  love  exists  in  its  purest  form,  per- 
haps, when  in  exercise  toward  those  who  may  be  per- 


ITS   ORIGIN.  755 

sonally  repulsive  to  us.  Just  as  Christ  when  on 
earth  mingled  more  freely  with  the  despised  outcasts, 
than  with  the  chief  priests  and  scribes,  and  walked 
and  talked  more  with  those  whose  characters  stood 
at  the  farthest  remove  from  his  own,  than  with  the 
outwardly  high  and  moral,  just  so  Christian  love 
seeks  especially  to  do  good  to  those  who  are  person- 
ally degraded,  or  unlovely  and  uncongenial.  True 
Christian  love  will  be  just  as  strongly  moved  to  labor 
with  those  whose  personal  presence  is  anything  but 
pleasant  or  agreeable,  as  with  the  cultured  and  favored 
ones.  It  will  visit  homes  where  to  remain  over  night 
would  be  the  greatest  cross  imaginable.  It  will  not 
shun  hovel  or  mansion,  palace  or  cottage.  In  short,  it 
will  lead  one  to  do  just  as  Christ  the  Master  did  ;  not 
to  be  affected  or  governed  by  person  or  position,  but 
always  having  high  regard  for  character,  moral  worth, 
and  earnest  need  and  want.  Its  objective  point  will 
always  be  the  soul's  spiritual  condition  rather  than 
the  bodily  advantage,  or  earthly,  physical  life  of 
humanity. 

This  personal  element  in  Christian  love  has  been 
the  cause  of  very  much  mischief,  both  in  Christian 
life  and  church  life.  The  church  is  viewed  by  a  large 
portion  of  its  supporters  as  simply  a  social  institution  ; 
a  place  where  one  can  go  on  the  Sabbath  and  have 
their  religious  sensibilities  moved  upon  a  trifle,  where 
they  can  nod  and  bow  to  those  whom  they  wish  to 
recognize,  and  pass  the  rest  by,  and  where  they  can 
form  themselves  into  little  clans  or  cliques  for  mutual 
admiration  and  attention.  The  idea  of  working  for 
the  good  of  souls  as  Christ  worked,  hardly  enters 
their  thoughts ;  and  if  it  does  it  comes  as  an  un- 


756  LIKE  A  MOTHER'S  LOVE. 

welcome  guest,  and  is  not  entertained.  It  may,  or 
may  not  do  harm  for  Christians  to  love  each  other  as 
persons,  provided  this  personal  affection  or  dislike 
does  not  break  up  the  exercise  of  the  divine,  spiritual 
love  which  lies  underneath.  But  when  personal  con- 
siderations alone  govern  Christian  or  church  life,  the 
results  are  disastrous  and  lamentable  in  the  extreme. 
One  reason  why  many  churches  are  not  more  homo- 
geneous and  united  as  solid,  compact,  working  bodies, 
is  because  there  is  so  little  Christian  love  in  them, 
and  so  much  strong  personal  regard  and  dislike.  As 
spirituality  declines,  so  Christian  love  declines,  for  no 
one  can  dwell  in  love  without  first  dwelling  in  God, 
and  God  in  him ;  hence  the  way  to  regain  a  love  for 
souls,  as  such,  without  regard  to  person,  is  first  to 
love  Christ  and  his  cause  and  truth  more  deeply  and 
warmly,  and  this  union  with  Christ  will  inevitably 
bring  about  a  union  with  one  another. 

LIKE  A  MOTHERS  LOVE. 

Again,  Christian  love  is  pure,  or  in  other  words, 
first  pure,  then  peaceable,  and  full  of  all  good  fruits. 
It  is  pure  as  opposed  to  selfish.  It  has  often  been 
asserted  that  Christian  or  divine  love  was  more  analo- 
gous to  a  mother's  love  than  to  any  other  known 
symbol ;  but  when  we  come  to  examine  the  com- 
parison closely,  it  utterly  fails.  Parental  love  is 
nothing  more  than  an  instinct  primarily,  although 
it  often  develops  into  something  higher ;  and  an 
instinct,  moreover,  that  is  common  to  animals  as  well 
as  human  beings.  The  bear  will  fight  for  her  cubs 
and  protect  them  and  care  for  them  to  an  extent  that 


LIKE  A  MOTHER'S  LOVE.  757 

often  surpasses  any  human  affection.  She  will  even 
die  for  their  sakes  more  readily  than  many  human 
parents.  We  all  know  of  persons  in  whom  this  in- 
stinct is  sadly  deficient,  and  who  do  not  seemingly 
care  for  their  offspring  half  as  tenderly  as  do  the 
lower  orders  of  life  beneath  them.  Therefore,  we  say 
there  is  nothing  inherently  divine  or  supernatural  in 
parental  love.  It  can  be  called  an  unselfish  instinct 
only  because  all  instincts  dominate  over  reason,  and 
act  spontaneously.  Every  mother's  love,  when  dis- 
connected from  the  higher  influences  with  which  it 
often  unites,  has  in  it  a  very  large  amount  of  personal 
pride  and  selfishness,  and  is  therefore  not  a  type  of 
true  Christian  love ;  for,  besides  being  wholly  per- 
sonal in  character,  it  is  always  born  of  the  flesh  and 
not  of  the  spirit. 

This,  however,  is  not  saying  that  a  mother's  love 
cannot  be  made  a  type  of  Christian  love,  for  it  often 
rises  into  that,  and  then  it  displays  a  strong,  almost 
heavenly  character,  which  has  made  it  the  theme  of 
song  in  all  ages.  But  parental  love,  divested  of  its 
personal  element,  ceases  to  be  merely  parental  love, 
but  passes  over  into  Christian  love,  and  takes  on  a 
higher  and  supernatural  character.  It  is  now  parental 
love  exalted,  or  rather  sublimated  into  spiritual  and 
Christian  love ;  and  in  this  form  it  might  be  a  true 
symbol  of  the  fruit  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  soul> 
but  not  in  its  natural  state.  The  nearest  approach 
to  true  Christian  love  in  the  natural  realm  of  life 
would  be  seen  in  pure  patriotism,  or  love  of  country, 
and  love  of  right  and  justice  and  truth,  wholly  irre- 
spective of  personal  or  selfish  considerations.  This 
patriotism,  like  Christian  love,  is  love  of  man,  as 


758  UNSELFISH    IN    CHARACTER. 

such,  without  regard  to  distinctions  of  birth,  or  color, 
or  external  condition  ,  it  is  love  of  right  and  liberty, 
regulated  by  law  ;  it  is  love  of  truth  and  justice  ;  it 
is  a  love  of  human  welfare  and  human  prosperity ; 
of  all  that  contributes  to  the  genuine  advancement 
of  the  individual  in  the  scale  of  being.  But  here 
the  comparison  ends  ;  for  patriotism  does  not  aim  to 
affect  the  souls  and  spiritual  welfare  of  men  only 
through  their  civil  and  social  relations  ;  but  Christian 
love,  while  taking  in  all  this,  is  principally  concerned 
with  the  welfare  of  the  soul  when  this  brief  life  is 
over.  It  considers  the  spiritual  side  of  man's  being 
as  first  and  foremost  in  importance,  and  aims  as  did 
Christ  while  on  earth,  to  bring  that  out,  and  lead  it 
forward  in  holiness  and  purity. 

UNSELFISH  IN  CHARACTER. 

True  Christian  love  does  not  work  for  reward,  or 
think  about  reflex  influences  and  personal  returns. 
For  the  moment  these  ideas  predominate,  it  ceases  to 
be  Christian  love.  As  Christ  said,  "  If  you  love 
those  that  love  you,  what  thank  have  ye  ?  Do  not 
even  the  Publicans  the  same?  If  ye  do  good  to 
friends  only,  what  do  ye  more  than  others  ?  "  True 
Christian  love  leads  one  to  imitate  God,  who  sendeth 
his  rain  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust,  expecting  no 
return;  in  the  words  of  Paul,  "  It  suffereth  long  and 
is  kind ;  it  envieth  not ;  it  vaunteth  not  itself,  and  is 
not  puffed  up  ;  it  seeketh  not  its  own,  is  not  easily 
provoked,  thinketh  no  evil ;  hopeth  all  things  and 
endureth  all  things,"  that  God  may  be  honored,  and 
souls  benefited  and  saved. 


UNSELFISH    IN    CHARACTER.  759 

But  as  Christian  love  is  supernatural  in  its  origin, 
and  derives  both  its  name  and  characteristics  from 
Christ,  so  the  best  delineation  of  it  which  can  be 
given  is  an  enumeration  of  the  characteristics  of  the 
love  which  Christ  exhibited.  This  love  of  Christ 
was,  first  of  all,  a  tender,  patient  love.  Its  tenderness 
and  patience  were  displayed  perhaps  most  conspic- 
uously in  his  continuous  treatment  of  the  chosen 
twelve.  Christ  had  many  difficulties  to  contend  with, 
but  none  greater  than  with  his  own  disciples.  How  he 
bore  with  their  faults  and  errors,  their  weaknesses  and 
shortcomings  !  How  kindly  and  tenderly  he  nursed 
their  weak  faith  !  How  gently  he  corrected  their  mis- 
takes, being  always  careful  not  to  break  the  bruised 
reed  or  quench  the  smoking  flax  of  genuine  piety, 
never  refusing  to  instruct  them  over  and  over  again. 

Look  for  example  at  the  disciples  in  a  boat  cross- 
ing the  sea  of  Galilee  in  a  storm.  Notwithstanding 
they  had  seen  so  many  displays  of  Christ's  power 
before,  had  seen  him  cure  the  sick,  raise  the  dead, 
feed  the  multitude  miraculously,  yet  now  when  the 
wind  blew  a  little  too  strongly,  and  the  waves  rolled 
uncomfortably,  and  they  were  getting  wet,  and  there 
was  more  water  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  than  there 
ought  to  be,  and  affairs  looked  threatening  generally, 
they  go  to  him  in  mingled  alarm  and  terror,  almost 
rebuke  him  with  words  of  remonstrance,  and  ask 
him  to  save  them.  Notice  his  reply.  He  readily 
complied  with  their  wishes,  rebuked  the  sea  and  the 
winds,  instead  of  the  disciples  who  deserved  it,  and 
then  turned  around  to  them  and  simply  said  with 
plaintive  accent,  "  Why  are  ye  so  fearful,  O  ye  of 
little  faith  ?" — and  dropped  the  subject. 


760  UNSELFISH    IN    CHARACTER. 

Take  the  case  of  doubting  Thomas,  who  refused  to 
believe  in  the  reality  of  Christ's  resurrection  until  he 
could  demonstrate  the  fact  by  the  touch  of  his  hands. 
The  proofs  of  his  resurrection  were  ample,  and  they 
all  appeared  to  be  convinced,  but  Thomas  remained 
incredulous.  Mere  human  love  would  have  felt 
hurt  at  such  an  exhibition  of  unbelief,  and  would 
doubtless  have  said,  "Well,  if  he  wishes  to  be  so 
obstinate,  let  him  become  convinced  the  best  he 
may,"  and  then  left  him.  But  Christ  did  not  so. 
He  saw  that  here  was  a  soul  in  real  difficulty  ;  for  the 
incredulity  of  Thomas  was  not  a  matter  of  obstinacy 
—if  it  had  been,  Christ  might  have  left  him — but 
rather  of  temperament  and  disposition.  Thomas 
was  slow  in  his  mental  processes,  lacking  the  natural 
gift  of  faith  ;  he  was  a  man  who  came  to  his  conclu- 
sions laboriously,  and  then  held  them  firmly  and 
tenaciously.  And  Christ  knew  that  to  leave  Thomas 
as  he  was,  with  his  turn  of  mind,  was  perhaps  to 
throw  him  off  forever ;  and  so  he  appeared  to 
Thomas,  and  accommodated  himself  to  his  mental  and 
spiritual  demands,  in  the  presence  of  them  all.  It 
was  an  amazing  act  of  tender,  patient  love  on  the 
part  of  Christ ;  and  see  what  wonders  it  wrought  in 
that  disciple's  views  and  feelings.  It  brought  out  that 
noble  confession  of  divinity,  the  strongest  but  one  in 
the  whole  gospel  history,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God," 
and  also  fastened  the  soul  of  that  disciple  to  the 
ways  of  truth  forever.  Looked  at  in  one  light,  the 
demand  of  Thomas  was  unreasonable,  but  Christ  saw 
it  was  the  great  turning-point  of  his  spiritual  history, 
and  so  his  tender,  patient  love  let  itself  down  to  the 
required  examination. 


AN    IMPARTIAL    LOVE.  761 

But  the  greatest  exhibition  o*f  tenderness  and  pa- 
tience in  Christ's  love  was  seen  on  the  Cross.  In 
those  last  hours  of  Christ's  life  you  see  his  character 
intensified  and  concentrated.  What  appears  as  good 
in  his  ordinary  life  is  brought  out  in  far  clearer  light 
by  the  scenes  of  the  Crucifixion.  As  Christ  hung 
there  nailed  to  the  wood,  he  was  suffering  intensely, 
unjustly,  and  innocently ;  and  if  there  is  anything 
that  will  make  the  human  spirit  irritable,  it  is  to 
suffer  unjustly.  Yet,  looking  down  upon  his  cruel 
and  stony-hearted  executioners,  instead  of  upbraid- 
ing them,  he  tenderly  prays  for  them,  saying, 
"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do."  Then,  looking  round  again  he  sees  his  mother 
and  John  standing  there,  and  although  his  mother 
had  frequently  tried  to  hinder  him  in  his  work  ;  had 
betrayed  a  spirit  of  non-appreciation,  not  to  say 
hostility,  with  regard  to  his  public  course  and  life,  yet 
mark  how  tenderly  and  patiently  he  loyes  her  still ! 
Instead  of  leaving  her  to  her  fate,  he  says  to  John, 
"Son,  behold  thy  mother,"  and  to  her,  "  Woman," 
which  was  a  title  of  respect,  ''behold  thy  son."  And 
from  that  hour  John  took  her  unto  his  own  home. 

AN  IMPARTIAL  LOVE. 

This  love  of  Christ  was  also  an  impartial  love. 
In  his  spiritual  ministrations,  Christ  recognized  no 
class  distinctions.  Although  he  knew  they  existed 
all  around  him,  yet  he  expressly  said  that  in  religious 
life  there  was  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  male  nor  female, 
bond  nor  free.  And  accordingly  we  find  Christ  now 
in  the  house  of  the  rich  Pharisee,  and  again  with 


762  AN    IMPARTIAL    LOVE. 

the  poor  and  outcast  by  the  wayside,.  If  he  paid  at- 
tention to  any  one  class  more  than  another,  it  was 
the  despised  and  oppressed.  It  was  thrown  at  him 
as  a  taunt  that  he  was  a  friend  of  Publicans  and  sin- 
ners, and  kept  their  company.  And  it  was  true  ;  not 
that  their  company  was  preferable  to  that  of  others, 
but  he  came  to  seek  and  save  those  who  were  lost, 
and  in  the  fulfillment  of  that  mission  he  passed 
by  none. 

On  one  occasion  a  certain  wealthy  Pharisee  invited 
him  to  dine  at  his  house,  and  Christ  went  in  and  sat 
down  to  meat.  While  there,  a  woman  of  the  street 
came  in,  stole  softly  up  to  his  couch,  and  began  to 
break  upon  his  feet  an  alabaster  box  of  ointment,  and 
to  wipe  them  with  her  hair.  Christ  spurned  her  not, 
neither  encouraged  her,  but  continued  his  meal. 
Looking  across  the  table,  he  perceived  a  fierce  con- 
flict going  on  in  his  host's  mind.  Says  Simon  to 
himself,  "  What  kind  of  a  man  is  this,  who  will 
allow  such  a  woman  to  stand  there  and  anoint  him  ? 
If  he  was  a  prophet,  as  he  claims,  he  would  read  her 
character,  and  send  her  away."  Now  here  was  a 
critical  case,  requiring  wise  and  impartial  treatment. 
Simon's  prejudices  were  to  be  rebuked  and  answered, 
the  penitent  soul  at  his  feet  must  be  saved,  and  still 
no  approval  of  her  sin  must  be  given.  Not  appearing 
to  heed  Simon's  indignation  and  abhorrence,  Christ 
opens  the  case,  by  saying :  "  Simon,  Simon,  I  have 
somewhat  to  say  unto  thee."  He  replied,  "  Master, 
say  on."  "  A  certain  creditor  had  two  debtors  ;  one 
owed  him  500  pence,  the  other  50.  And  when  they 
had  nothing  to  pay,  he  frankly  forgave  them  both. 
Which,  think  you,  will  love  him  most?"  Oh,  how 


STRONG    AND    ENDURING  763 

evenly  and  impartially  the  scales  have  been  held 
here  ! — 500  and  50 ;  Simon  and  the  woman  both 
debtors,  but  with  this  difference  in  character.  Then 
he  went  on  :  "  Seest  thou  this  woman  ?  I  entered 
thine  house,  thou  gavest  me  no  water  for  my  feet,  no 
kiss,  but  this  woman  hath  not  ceased  to  kiss  my  feet, 
and  to  wash  them  with  her  tears.  Therefore  her 
sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven,  for  she  loved 
much." 

STRONG  AND  ENDURING. 

Moreover,  this  love  of  Christ  was  a  strong  and  en- 
during love.  It  never  faltered  or  failed.  It  carried 
him  through  one  painful  experience  after  another,  it 
carried  him  on  to  the  painful  close  of  his  life.  Human 
love,  even  when  existing  in  purity,  is  soon  exhausted  ; 
vigorous  when  in  prosperity,  feeble  in  adversity.  It 
is  so  easily  turned  aside  from  its  object,  so  weak,  un- 
stable,, fickle  !  But  in  Christ  no  fires  of  persecution 
could  consume,  no  waters  of  sorrow  drown  his  love. 
"  Having  loved  his  own,  he  loved  them  unto  the  end." 
Notwithstanding  at  his  trial  his  disciples  all  forsook 
him  and  fled,  yet  he  met  them  after  his  resurrection 
just  as  affectionately  as  ever.  Their  bad  conduct 
seemed  to  make  no  impression  upon  his  spirit,  or 
feelings. 

And  in  that  terrific  Gethsemane  experience,  when 
the  love  of  his  heart  and  the  greatness  of  the  curse 
he  must  bear  were  contending  for  the  mastery,  his 
love  was  strong  enough  to  endure  the  strain,  and 
come  out  victorious.  Who  but  Christ  could  have 
looked  such  a  horrible  death  full  in  the  face,  and  still 


764  STRONG    AND    ENDURING. 

have  pressed  on  toward  the  cross  ?  Such  love  is  "high 
as  heaven,  broad  as  the  earth,  and  deep  as  the  sea." 

But  best  of  all,  this  love  of  Christ  was  pre- 
eminently self-sacrificing  love.  Perhaps  this  was  its 
most  distinguishing  trait.  We  love  for  the  sake  of 
being  loved  again ;  and  unless  the  return  love  is 
prompt  and  satisfactory,  our  love  soon  ceases,  or  is 
very  liable  to  grow  cold.  It  is  thus  pre-eminently  a 
selfish  affection  ;  but  Christ's  love  was  self-sacrificing 
all  the  way  through.  It  originated  in  self-sacrifice. 

No  one  in  this  world  can  ever  realize  what  a 
sacrifice  it  was  for  Christ  to  leave  heaven  and  come 
to  earth  at  all.  What  a  difference  in  the  two  places ! 
What  a  difference  in  society  and  surroundings,  differ- 
ence in  enjoyment  and  employment,  difference  in 
treatment  and  usage.  What  a  stoop  from  the  In- 
finite to  the  Finite  ;  from  the  companionship  of  God 
to  the  companionship  of  guilty,  hardened,  persecuting 
sinners !  Take  a  person  of  rare,  delicate,  refined 
susceptibilities,  brought  up  in  affluence,  screened  from 
contact  with  evil,  and  transfer  him  from  that  home  of 
plenty,  and  peace,  and  honor,  and  compel  him  to 
become  a  homeless,  penniless  wanderer  among  those 
who  not  only  did  not  understand  or  appreciate  his 
worth,  but  who  constantly  hunted  for  his  life,  and 
you  have  only  a  faint  analogy  of  the  sacrifice  of 
Christ  in  coming  from  the  court  of  Heaven  into  that 
manger  at  Bethlehem — a  very  faint  analogy  indeed. 
But  yet  his  love  was  equal  to  the  descent,  equal  to 
the  transfer,  equal  to  the  humiliation.  But  what  an 
amazing  act  of  condescension,  what  a  stoop  un_ 
paralleled  when  the  Prince  of  Glory  left  his  throne 
and  allied  himself  with  his  guilty  subjects  ! 


STRONG    AND    ENDURING.  765 

Again,  look  at  the  poverty-stricken  experiences  of 
his  boyhood  and  manhood  ;  see  what  a  contrast  be- 
tween being  in  heaven  and  working  at  a  carpenter's 
bench  on  earth.  And  then,  worst  of  all,  to  have  no 
real  companionship  or  sympathy  while  doing  this 
work.  As  far  as  his  earthly  relations  went,  Christ 
lived  a  solitary,  lonesome,  home-sick  life.  No  one 
understood  him,  no  one  entered  fully  into  his  spirit  and 
plans.  He  walked  the  earth  essentially  and  really 
alone.  All  the  intercourse  which  strengthened  or 
sustained  him  was  carried  on  with  his  home  above. 
Between  him  and  every  human  being  there  was  a 
natural  and  moral  gulf,  which  could  not  be  bridged. 
He  was  sinless,  all  others  were  sinful ;  and  this  in 
itself  separated  him  forever  from  all  earthly  com- 
panionship or  equality.  He  could  not  be  on  a  level 
with  others,  nor  could  others  with  him  ;  for  while  they 
were  of  the  earth  wholly,  he  came  from  above.  And 
so  not  only  his  birth,  but  his  whole  life  was  one  con- 
tinued act  of  self-sacrificing  love.  And  how  strong 
that  love  must  have  been,  to  have  kept  him  up 
through  it  all ! 

But  the  greatest  is  not  yet  told.  If  his  birth  and 
life  were  acts  of  self-sacrificing  love,  what  shall  be 
said  of  his  trial  and  crucifixion  ?  It  were  humiliation 
enough  if  he  had  died  easy  and  peaceful,  surrounded 
by  loving  and  loyal  hearts  ;  but  to  be  insulted,  jeered 
at,  mocked,  falsely  accused,  tortured,  spiked  to  the 
cross  like  a  brute,  treated  as  a  vile  malefactor,  oh, 
this  was  cruel  to  the  last  degree.  And  yet  that  love 
of  his  never  gave  way  !  It  carried  him  through  not 
only  his  outward  sufferings,  but  through  the  darkest 
valley  of  all,  viz.:  The  hiding  of  his  Father's  face. 


766  STRONG    AND    ENDURING. 

This  last  was  all  the  comfort  he  had  enjoyed  from  the 
beginning  ;  on  this  he  had  leaned  all  the  way  through  ; 
and  now  to  have  this  last  solace  removed,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  he  bowed  his  head,  and  gave  up  his  spirit 
in  wild  and  utter  dismay.  Medical  men  say  that 
Christ  died  literally  of  a  broken  heart  ;  that  his  grief 
was  such  as  to  force  blood  and  water  into  the  heart 
in  such  quantities  as  to  cause  a  literal  rupture,  and  so 
to  produce  death  instantly. 

Lastly,  this  love  of  Christ  was  a  burning,  indignant 
love.  Burning  in  the  sense  of  consuming  and  de- 
stroying ;  indignant  in  the  sense  of  avenging.  This 
God  who  so  loves  us  is  not  imbecile,  or  weak,  or 
foolish,  but  rather  a  perfect  being,  and  as  such  is 
capable  of  wrath  and  anger.  The  connection  be- 
tween love  and  hate  is  more  intimate  than  many 
realize.  One  writer  hath  said  that  hate  is  only  love 
turned  over,  as  though  love  and  hate  formed  the  two 
sides  of  one  and  the  same  affection.  And  without 
doubt,  this  is  substantially  true.  All  those  books 
which  profess  to  give  the  workings  of  a  human  heart 
that  has  been  abused  and  betrayed,  have  a  basis  of 
terrible  fact  lying  underneath  them.  Nothing  can 
exceed  the  fierceness  of  that  avenging  spirit  which 
is  roused  up  in  strong,  tender,  loving  natures,  when 
suffering  wrongfully.  Take  two  hearts  that  have 
loved  strongly  and  purely,  and  let  that  love  be  turned 
to  hate  by  any  wrong,  wicked  act,  and  how  awfully 
bitter  that  hate  becomes  !  There  is  nothing  on  earth 
which  can  be  more  cruel ! 

Now  it  follows  that  if  love  and  hate  are  so  closely 
connected,  psychologically,  the  stronger  the  love,  the 
more  terrible  the  an^er.  And  so  it  comes  about  that 


STRONG    AND    ENDURING.  767 

the  most  dreadful  maledictions,  the  hardest  and 
harshest  words  of  denunciation,  the  most  fearful 
curses  that  ever  fell  from  human  lips,  came  from  this 
gentle,  tender,  patient,  suffering,  loving  Christ. 
Read  his  words  to  those  false-hearted  moralists,  the 
Pharisees ;  see  him  when  he  drove  the  buyers  and 
sellers  from  the  holy  temple  ;  hear  him  upbraid  the 
cities  which  repented  not  at  his  coming  ;  mark  his 
words  to  Judas  who  betrayed  him  ;  and  from  all  these 
examples  learn  that  he  who  loves  as  no  one  ever 
loved  before,  can  also  have  enkindled  within  him  a 
fire  of  wrath  that  will  burn  to  the  lowest  hell. 

Now  Christ  asks  of  those  who  would  be  his 
followers,  not  a  love  that  equals  his,  but  that  which 
resembles  it ;  not  love  of  the  same  strength,  but  of 
the  same  kind,  A  pearl  of  dew  will  not  hold  the 
sun,  but  it  can  hold  a  spark  of  its  light.  A  child  by 
the  sea  trying  to  catch  the  crystal  spray  cannot  hold 
the  ocean  in  its  tiny  shell,  but  he  can  hold  a  drop  of 
the  ocean  water.  So  with  true  Christian  love  as 
compared  with  Christ's  love.  It  must  be  a  genuine 
drop  from  His  infinite  sea. 


768  THE    HOLY    SPIRIT. 


THE  HOL  Y  SPIRIT. 


'«  Holy  Ghost  dispel  our  blindness, 

Pierce  the  clouds  of  sinful  night; 
Come  thou  source  of  sweetest  gladness, 
Breathe  thy  life,  and  spread  thv  light. 
Loving  Spirit,  God  of  peace, 
Great  Distributor  of  grace!" 


HO  and  what  is  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
what  are  his  offices  in  the  Church  and 
in  the  world,  are  questions  second  in 
importance  to  none  that  can  be  viewed 
by  a  Christian  mind.  Christ  said  at 
one  time  that  unless  he  should  go  away  (that  is  go 
back  to  the  right  hand  of  God  above)  the  Spirit 
would  not  descend  upon  his  people,  and  consequently 
the  work  in  them  and  through  them  which  the  Spirit 
has  since  performed,  would  never  have  been  ac- 
complished. 

There  will  always  be  more  or  less  of  mystery  con- 
nected with  these  utterances  of  our  Lord.  Why  the 
Holy  Spirit  could  not  operate  when  Christ  was  per- 
sonally on  earth,  and  why  he  did  not  operate  more 
powerfully  during  the  three  years  of  Christ's  personal 
ministry,  are  matters  that  can  never  be  fully  under- 
stood by  us,  until  we  understand  all  the  relations 
which  exist  between  the  three  persons  that  compose 


THE    HOLY    SPIRIT.  769 

the  Triune  Deity.  The  simple  scriptural  facts  are,  that 
the  Spirit  did  not  operate  as  powerfully  as  afterward, 
until  Christ  went  away  and  sent  him  down  ;  and  that, 
after  he  was  sent,  the  work  accomplished  by  him  ex- 
ceeded all  that  had  been  done  before. 

How  many  disciples  Christ  himself  made  when  on 
earth  we  have  no  means  of  definitely  ascertaining. 
Great  multitudes  followed  him,  and  were  healed  by' 
him,  and  fed  by  him,  and  a  great  many  believed  on 
him  in  different  parts  of  the  country,  but  how  many 
were  spiritually  regenerated,  as  they  have  been  since 
the  advent  of  the  Spirit,  we  cannot  say.  Christ's 
life  and  ministry  on  earth  were  not  a  failure  by  any 
means,  neither  did  they  accomplish  all  that  we  would 
naturally  think  ought  to  have  been  accomplished, 
considering  who  the  teacher  and  preacher  was 
that  labored. 

Three  things,  without  doubt,  combined  to  make 
this  difference.  Christ  had  not  yet  died  for  our  sins, 
according  to  the  Scriptures.  He  had  not  yet  risen 
again  for  our  justification,  and  ascended  up  on  high 
as  our  .Intercessor  and  Advocate.  The  Holy  Spirit 
had  not  yet  taken  his  full  place  in  the  scheme  of  re- 
demption. But  at  Pentecost,  the  sacrifice  had  been 
offered,  and  the  resurrection  and  ascension  were  facts 
testified  to  by  friends  and  enemies ;  then,  last  of  all, 
the  keystone  of  the  spiritual  arch,  that  which  com- 
pleted and  held  together,  and  made  effective  all  that 
had  been  done  before,  was  dropped  into  its  place, 
when  "  There  came  a  sound  from  heaven,  as  of  a 
rushing,  mighty  wind,  filling  the  house  where  the 
disciples  (120  in  number)  were  gathered,  and  appear- 
ing as  cloven  tongues  of  fire,  sitting  upon  each  of 


770  A    COMFORTER. 

them,  and  causing  them  all  to  be  filled  with  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  to  speak  with  other  tongues,  as  the  Spirit 
gave  them  utterance." 

And  as  far  as  the  Scriptures  represent,  had  not 
this  last  work  been  performed,  the  arch  would  not 
have  been  complete,  neither  could  it  have  stood  firm. 
The  scheme  of  redemption  would  have  been  defective, 
and  the  gospel  shorn  of  its  sin-subduing  and  lieart- 
conquering  power.  The  Church  would  not  have 
been  born  as  a  propagating  agency,  and  the  millions 
who  have  believed  would  never  have  enjoyed,  as  they 
have  since,  the  blessings  of  spiritual  power.  Glorious 
day  for  man  when  the  communication  between  heaven 
and  earth  was  fully  established  ;  when  an  invisible 
cable-wire  extended  from  every  believing  heart 
straight  up  to  the  eternal  throne  on  which  messages 
could  be  dispatched  both  ways,  and  by  which  God's 
light  and  love  and  power  and  blessing  could  be  re- 
ceived and  felt  in  human  hearts  and  homes.  A  day 
hardly  inferior  to  that  in  which  the  babe  of  Bethle- 
hem was  born,  or  that  in  which  the  heavens  were 
shrouded  in  blackness,  or  that  in  which  the  great  stone 
was  rolled  away  from  Christ's  tomb. 

A  COMFORTER. 

The  word  Comforter  in  the  Bible  is  not  an  adequate 
representation  of  the  original  term.  In  fact,  the^o  is 
no  one  English  word  that  does  represent  it  fully,  it 
is  found  only  five  times  in  the  New  Testament ;  four 
times  in  two  chapters  of  John's  gospel  which  were 
spoken  by  Christ  at  one  time  just  before  his  arrest, 
and  once  in  the  first  leiter  of  John  (ii:  2,)  where  it  is 


A    COMFORTER.  771 

translated  Advocate,  and  applied  to  Christ  himself  : 
"  If  any  man  sin  we  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous."  Paracletes 
signifies  primarily  a  helper,  an  assistant,  a  repre- 
sentative, as  well  as  a  comforter  and  an  advocate, 
thus  showing  how  many  are  the  offices  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  performs  in  the  work  of  salvation  and 
sanctification,  and  how  full  of  power  and  blessing  he 
can  be  made  to  man's  soul.  It  is  significant  also  that 
Christ  chose  this  word  at  a  time  when  he  wished  to 
instruct  his  disciples  fully  concerning  their  future 
life  and  work,  and  also  to  take  their  minds  off  from 
himself  and  transfer  them  to  this  other  helper  which 
he  was  about  to  send  them. 

While  reference  is  made  to  the  Holy  Spirit  and  his 
work  some  300  times  in  the  New  Testament,  yet  he 
is  called  the  Paraclete  only  five  times.  Why  is  this? 
We  reply,  it  is  to  set  forth  the  relation  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  to  the  triune  Godhead,  and  also  set  forth  the 
very  important  relation  which  he  was  henceforth  to 
sustain  to  Christians  and  the  world.  Said  Christ  in 
the  i4th  chapter  of  John,  "  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my 
commandments,  and  I  will  pray  the  Father  and  he 
shall  give  you  another  comforter  (or  helper)  that  he 
may  abide  with  you  forever."  Notice  here  that 
Christ  places  the  Holy  Spirit  on  a  level  with  himself, 
thus  making  him  God.  Another  comforter,  another 
helper,  another  representative  like  myself.  And  he 
shall  be  to  you  more  than  I  have  been.  Therefore, 
"  it  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away,  for  if  I  go 
not  away  he  cannot  come."  This  person  whom  Christ 
was  to  send  was  to  come  from  the  Father,  even  as 
he  had  come,  thus  indicating  equality  of  origin  and 


772  A    COMFORTER. 

equality  in  nature  and  power.  As  he  had  been  God 
on  earth,  so  henceforth  the  Holy  Spirit  was  to  be 
God  in  the  human  heart ;  only  he  himself  had  been 
visible,  but  the  Spirit  should  be  invisible.  This  other 
representative  of  God  should  in  one  sense  take  his 
place  on  earth,  while  he  himself  went  back  to  the 
right  hand  of  the  throne  to  act  as  Mediator  and 
Intercessor. 

And  thus  the  matter  stands  to-day  and  evermore. 
In  the  absolute  and  impenetrable  depths  of  his  own 
infinitude,  dwelling  in  light  that  no  man  can  approach 
unto,  whom  no  man  hath  seen  or  can  see  and  live,  is 
God  the  Father,  the  Self-existent,  the  Eternal,  the 
Changeless  One.  At  his  right  hand,  standing  be- 
tween the  throne  and  the  earth  is  God  the  Son,  our 
Saviour  and  Mediator.  But  both  of  these  are  in 
heaven,  and  away  from  us.  We  can  pray  unto  them, 
but  we  cannot  come  near  them.  Have  we,  then, 
no  God  on  earth  ?  Are  we  bereft  of  the  divine  pres- 
ence and  power  entirely  ?  Ah,  no ;  Christ  made 
provision  for  this  need  when  he  sent  into  the  world 
after  his  departure  this  other  representative  of  God, 
the  Holy  Spirit,  that  he  might  abide  with  us  forever. 
"  Whom  the  world  cannot  receive,  because  it  seeth 
him  not,  neither  knoweth  him  ;  "  but  Christians  know 
him,  because  they  have  been  born  again  by  his  power, 
and  he  dwelleth  with  them,  and  is  in  them. 

But  we  must  indicate  a  few  of  the  Spirit's  special 
offices.  When  he  comes  to  a  soul  he  finds  it  spiritu- 
ally insensible,  paralyzed,  blind.  The  Scriptures  use 
concerning  it,  the  phraseology,  ''dead  in  trespasses 
and  in  sins,"  thus  making  it  without  spiritual  life  or 
motion ;  physically,  and  intellectually,  and  emotionally 


A    COMFORTER.  773 

active,  but  destitute  of  spiritual  life  and  power.  The 
soul  can  hear  about  the  gospel,  but  cannot  spiritually 
understand  it,  and  has  no  desire  to  accept  it.  Some- 
times the  soul  knows  what  it  ought  to  do,  but,  like  a 
man  paralyzed,  it  cannot  do  what  it  wants  to.  As 
Paul  says,  "  To  will  is  present  with  me,  /.  e.  I  have 
power  to  will,  my  will  operates  freely,  but  how  to 
perform,  I  find  not,''  i.  e.  I  cannot  carry  it  out  ;  I 
cannot  do  what  I  know  I  ought  to  do,  and  what  I 
sometimes  wish  to  do. 

The  Holy  Spirit  first  accompanies  some  word  of 
truth  to  the  insensible  mind.  New  views  of  self,  of 
life,  and  of  God,  now  begin  to  crowd  the  mind,  and 
to  produce  deep  agitation.  Instead  of  being  insensi- 
ble, the  soul  begins  to  be  awakened,  begins  to  see, 
and  feel,  and  desire.  The  Spirit  continues  to  press 
all  these  new  considerations  upon  it  until  its  past 
sins  loom  up  like  overhanging  mountains  and  threat- 
en to  crush  it  forever.  It  then  begins  to  be  in  agony 
and  cries  out  to  God  for  mercy,  and  for  the  first 
time  is  led  to  pray. 

Then,  having  shown  the  soul  its  own  lost  state  and 
led  it  to  realize  its  sinful  thralldom,  the  Spirit  next 
turns  the  soul's  attention  to  the  remedy,  and  begins 
to  talk  of  the  things  of  Christ,  and  show  them  to  the 
soul.  This  at  first  only  aggravates  the  distress,  be- 
cause it  adds  a  new  accusing  thought,  viz :  The 
thought  of  rejecting  so  long  the  means  of  salvation 
which  God  has  provided.  Finally,  the  Holy  Spirit 
begins  to  give  the  soul  power  to  believe,  and  it  then 
surrenders  itself  entirely  to  him  who  says,  "  I  am  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the  life,  and  he  that  believeth  on 
me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live."  The 


774  A    SANCTIFIER. 

soul  now  passes  from  a  state  of  condemnation  to  one 
of  justification,  from  insensibility  to  life,  from  blind- 
ness to  sight,  from  paralysis  to  vigor. 

Up  to  this  point  the  Holy  Spirit  has  applied  the 
word  of  truth  and  set  in  motion  a  course  of  religious 
thought,  and  reflection,  and  meditation.  Before  the 
Spirit  operated,  the  soul  was  careless,  indifferent, 
proud,  and  self-complacent.  It  rejected  as  an  insult 
what  the  Scriptures  said  concerning  its  essential  and 
natural  depravity.  But  the  Spirit  continues  to  use 
his  sword,  which  is  the  Word  of  God,  so  vigorously 
that  by  and  by  the  heart  is  all  cut  to  pieces  and 
broken  up  by  sharp  strokes  and  rapid  blows,  and  is 
glad  to  avail  itself  of  any  method  of  escape.  Then 
the  Spirit  applies  the  blood  of  cleansing.  This  ex- 
pression of  course  is  figurative,  but  very  truthful, 
nevertheless.  The  real  work  is  to  get  the  soul  to 
surrender  itself  to  Christ,  utterly  and  entirely,  and 
then  make  it  feel  that  Christ  has  received  and 
pardoned  it,  and  that  henceforth  Christ's  merit  is  im- 
puted to  it.  And  then  follow  peace,  and  pardon, 
and  joy,  expressed  in  song,  and  praise,  and  prayer. 

A  SANCTIFIER. 

The  Christian  life  has  now  commenced  in  the  soul, 
but  the  Spirit's  work  is  not  yet  done.  Now,  he  is  to 
enable  the  soul  to  grow  in  grace  and  in  knowledge, 
to  help  it  resist  temptation  and  overcome  sin,  within 
and  without ;  to  help  it  pray  the  effectual  fervent 
prayer  that  availeth  much  before  God  ;  to  enable  it 
to  understand  the  Scriptures  and  feed  upon  them, 
and  also  enable  it  to  work  effectively  and  faithfully 


A    SANCTIFIER.  775 

for  the  salvation  of  others.  All  the  work  of  sancti- 
fication  is  the  Spirit's  work.  All  the  Christian  graces 
are  his  fruits  within. 

In  trying  to  state  what  the  Spirit  does  for  souls 
spiritually,  the  difficulty  is  rather  to  find  what  he 
does  not  do.  The  work  of  conviction  is  his,  of  en- 
lightenment, of  subduing,  of  believing,  of  under- 
standing, of  enabling  the  soul  to  pray,  and  preach, 
and  exhort,  of  resisting  evil,  and  growing  in  holiness. 
Says  Dr.  Jenkyn  :  "  As  the  same  shower  blesses 
various  lands  in  different  degrees  according  to  their 
respective  susceptibilities,  making  the  grass  to  spring 
up  on  the  mead,  the  grain  to  vegetate  in  the  field, 
the  shrub  to  grow  on  the  plain,  and  the  flower  to 
blossom  in  the  garden ;  so  the  influences  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  descending  on  the  moral  soil,  produce 
convictions  in  the  guilty,  illumination  in  the  ignorant, 
holiness  in  the  defiled,  strength  in  the  feeble,  and 
comfort  in  the  distressed.  As  the  Spirit  of  holiness, 
he  imparts  a  pure  love;  as  the  Spirit  of  glory,  he 
throws  a  radiance  over  the  character ;  as  the  Spirit 
of  life,  he  revives  religion  ;  as  the  Spirit  of  truth,  he 
gives  transparency  to  the  understanding ;  as  the 
Spirit  of  prayer,  he  melts  the  soul  into  devotion  ;  as 
the  Spirit  of  power,  he  covers  the  face  of  the  earth 
with  works  of  faith,  and  labors  of  love." 


PRAYER. 


PR  A  YER. 


"  Prayer  was  not  meant  for  luxury, 
Or  selfish  pastime  sweet  ; 

I\  is  the  prostrate  creature's  plea 
At  his  Creator's  feet. 


"  True  prayer  doth  humbly  set  the  soul 

From  all  illusions  free, 
And  teaches  it  how  utterly 

It  hangs,  O  Lord,  on  thee." 


HE  famous  Welsh  preacher,  Christmas 
Evans,  said  of  prayer  that  it  was  "  the 
rope  in  the  belfry  ;  we  pull  it,  and  it  rings 
the  bell  up  in  heaven."  Mary,  Queen  of 
Scotland,  used  to  say  :  "  I  fear  the  prayers 
of  John  Knox  more  than  an  army  of  ten 
thousand  men."  With  both  of  these  characters,  so 
opposite  in  themselves,  prayer  was  real.  And  so  it 
is,  or  must  be,  to  all  who  would  be  Christians.  It  is 
a  fact  that  God  has  condescended  to  put  himself  in 
real  relations  with  men,  so  that  their  approaches  unto 
him  could  be  approaches  unto  a  real,  living  being  who 
knew  what  they  said,  and  was  abundantly  able  to  re- 
spond. This  conception  of  reality  is  essential  to  the 
very  existence  of  prayer.  Before  we  can  be  said  to 
pray  at  all  we  must  believe  and  realize  thoroughly 


PRAYER    REASONABLE    AND    CONSISTENT.  777 

that  God  is,  and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  of  them  that 
diligently  seek  him.  Nothing  is  more  vital,  im- 
portant, or  absolutely  indispensable  than  this.  It  is 
the  secret  of  all  effectiveness,  as  it  is  the  source  of 
all  differences  in  prayer.  One  prayer  is  more  power- 
ful than  another,  simply  because  one  suppliant  is 
more  real  and  true  and  sincere  and  believing  than 
another.  The  mere  form  of  words  has  nothing  to  do 
with  prayer,  but  the  underlying  spirit  is  everything. 
And  hence  the  Scriptures  insist  so  strongly  upon 
faith  as  an  indispensable  pre-requisite  of  prayer,  be- 
cause faith  makes  God  real  to  the  soul.  It  brings  him 
before  it  as  a  ruling,  reigning  King,  and  Creator,  and 
Father,  and  makes  an  approach  unto  him  a  real, 
vital  act. 

PRATER  REASONABLE  AND  CONSISTENT. 

But  prayer  in  itself  is  not  only  real,  it  is  also 
reasonable,  and  entirely  consistent.  It  is  the  aim  of 
much  of  heathen  and  modern  philosophy,  as  well  as 
the  special  teaching  of  the  current  scientific  theoriz- 
ing of  our  time,  to  convince  the  mind  that  prayer  is 
an  impertinence  ;  that  it  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  it 
can  possibly  do  any  good,  or  cause  anything  to  be 
changed  in  the  divine  mind,  or  in  the  divine 
method  of  working  in  the  world.  These  would- 
be  wise  men  very  gravely  affect  to  look  down 
with  a  smile  of  pity  and  contempt  upon  what 
they  are  pleased  to  term  the  weakness  and  fanati- 
cism of  those  souls,  which,  in  undoubted  sincerity 
of  belief,  look  up  to  God  in  prayer,  and  expect 
their  prayers  to  be  efficacious.  And  they  assert 


778  PRAYER    REASONABLE    AND    CONSISTENT. 

as  the  reason  for  their  views  and  feelings,  the  im- 
possibility of  ignoring,  superseding,  or  contravening 
established  natural  law. 

There  are  two  ways  of  meeting  this  objection  ;  by 
a  faith-argument  and  by  logic.  These  objectors 
assert  one  thing,  and  the  Scriptures  assert  another, 
entirely  contrary ;  so  the  whole  matter  is  really  a 
question  of  authority.  Which  knows  the  most  and 
is  the  best  entitled  to  credence,  the  Bible,  or  modern 
science  ?  Which  carries  with  it  the  most  weight  of 
age  and  experience,  of  application  and  truth,  of  rev- 
erence and  of  power?  Before  the  flippant  assertions 
of  these  skeptics  can  supersede  the  declarations  of 
the  Bible,  science  and  philosophy  must  first  dislodge 
the  Bible  from  the  impregnably-fortified  position  it 
holds  in  human  history  and  in  human  thought.  And 
while  they  are  busy  at  that,  the  world  can  keep  on 
praying  without  much  alarm  as  to  the  result.  For  if 
this  position  could  have  been  carried,  it  would  have 
been  long  before  now.  Satan  and  all  his  forces  on 
earth  have  endeavored  through  thousands  of  years 
to  storm  it,  flank  it,  surround  it,  and  undermine  it, 
but  there  the  Bible  stands  as  it  ever  has  stood,  deep- 
rooted  and  eternal  as  the  everlasting  hills,  serene  and 
undisturbed  as  the  face  of  the  heavens. 

The  logical  argument  is  as  follows  :  No  one  will 
deny  that  God  is  an  unchangeable  being,  knowing 
neither  variableness  nor  the  shadow  of  turning  ;  no 
one  will  question  the  existence  of  established  laws  in 
the  physical  and  moral  worlds ;  but  these  two  facts 
do  not  throw  out  the  reasonableness  of  prayer,  be- 
cause prayer  is  not  something  that  has  sprung  up 
since  the  laws  were  established,  and  which  was  not 


GRAYER    REASONABLE    AND    CONSISTENT.  779 

recognized  in  the  divine  thought  at  the  time,  but 
rather  when  these  laws  were  first  ordained  and  estab- 
lished, they  were  arranged  with  direct  reference  to 
the  answering  of  prayer.  In  other  words,  in  the 
original  system  of  law,  direct  and  special  provision 
was  made  for  prayer ;  a  place,  so  to  speak,  was  left 
for  it  and  has  been  filled  by  it,  from  the  days  of  Seth 
before  the  flood,  down  to  the  present  time. 

To  deny  this  arrangement  of  law,  is  to  deny  God's 
omniscience  and  perfection  of  character ;  for  it  repre- 
sents him  as  a  being  who  did  not  think  about  prayer 
when  he  established  the  laws  of  the  universe,  and  so 
left  that  out  by  mistake  ;  and  it  represents  him  as 
requiring  prayer  of  men,  when  he  knows  all  the  while 
it  never  can  be  answered  !  Away  with  such  shallow 
nonsense !  Those  who  believe  such  a  doctrine, 
ought  to  be  very  cautious  and  modest  in  calling  any 
one  else  weak  and  fanatical. 

The  unchangeableness  of  the  divine  character, 
therefore,  so  far  from  being  any  obstacle  to  prayer,  is 
rather  its  sure  and  certain  guaranty.  Prayer  is  sure 
to  be  answered  when  offered  in  accordance  with  the 
divine  will,  simply  because  God  is  unchangeable,  and 
never  fails  to  fulfill  his  word.  If  he  were  fickle,  the 
answers  would  of  course  be  uncertain,  but  as  he  is 
immutable,  the  answers  are  sure.  Neither  is  the 
existence  of  established  law  any  obstacle  to  prayer, 
but  rather,  like  the  character  of  God,  a  pledge  and 
surety  of  its  success.  For  as  God  in  the  exercise  of 
his  wise  omniscience  and  foreknowledge,  seeing 
clearly  the  end  from  the  beginning,  made  arrange- 
ments for  the  answering  of  prayer  through  all  time, 
and  incorporated  those  arrangements  into  the  immut- 


780  WHAT    GOOD    DOES    PRAYER    DO? 

able  system  of  law,  it  follows,  that  so  long  as  any 
laws  are  in  force,  so  long  will  prayer  be  answered, 
when  offered  right.  Nay,  more  ;  instead  of  prayer 
being  an  outside  disturbing  force  in  this  system  of 
law,  it  is  an  integral  part  of  the  system — a  link  in  the 
chain — and  is  even  necessary  to  the  very  existence 
and  working  of  the  system  as  a  whole  ;  and  instead 
of  prayer  being  a  superfluity  in  the  universe,  it  is 
exceedingly  doubtful  whether  the  universe,  under 
prevailing  forces,  could  exist  long  without  it. 

Let  no  souls  think,  then,  or  feel,  when  they  pray, 
that  they  are  doing  aught  unreasonable  or  inconsist- 
ent in  itself  with  any  known  perfection  of  God's 
character,  or  with  any  system  of  law  which  he  has 
established  in  the  realm  of  matter  or  of  mind.  For 
there  is  no  act  of  a  man's  life  more  reasonable,  or 
more  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  his  highest 
intelligence,  as  certainly  there  is  none  more  in  accord- 
ance with  God's  will  and  pleasure,  or  more  thoroughly 
consonant  with  the  established  method  of  the  divine 
government  in  the  world,  than  is  this  act  of  prayer. 
Indeed,  that  is  a  rare  and  truly  beatific  moment  for 
the  soul  when,  closing  its  eyes  to  all  outward  impres- 
sions, it  lays  itself  open  to  the  divine  inspection  and 
pours  out  its  desires,  and  confessions,  and  thanksgiv- 
ings into  the  divine  ear.  Then  does  the  human  spirit 
attain  unto  its  highest  and  truest  possibility  of  ex- 
alted intercourse  with  a  superior  intelligence. 

WHAT  GOOD  DOES  PRATER  DO? 

But  what  good  does  prayer  do  ?  What  good  has  it 
done  ?  Says  Dr.  Ryland  :  "  Prayer  has  divided  seas, 


WHAT    GOOD    DOES    PRAYER    DO  ?  781 

rolled  up  flowing  rivers,  made  flinty  rocks  gush  into 
fountains,  quenched  flames  of  fire,  muzzled  lions, 
disarmed  vipers  and  poisons,  marshaled  the  stars 
against  the  wicked,  stopped  the  course  of  the  moon, 
arrested  the  sun  in  its  rapid  race,  burst  open  iron 
gates,  recalled  souls  from  eternity,  conquered  devils, 
and  commanded  legions  of  angels  down  from  heaven. 
Prayer  has  bridled  and  chained  the  raging  passions 
of  men,  and  routed  and  destroyed  vast  armies  of 
proud,  daring  atheists.  Prayer  has  brought  one 
man  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  and  carried  an- 
other in  a  chariot  of  fire  to  heaven." 

But  all  this  is  historic  ;  what  good  does  prayer  do 
in  individual  lives,  and  in  the  practical  working  of 
events  ?  We  answer  :  Prayer  helps  God  do  his  work 
in  the  world.  It  does  this  in  two  ways  :  First,  by 
bringing  the  suppliant  into  that  moral  condition  in 
which  alone  it  is  possible  for  God  to  bless  him.  This 
is  called  the  reflex  benefit  of  prayer.  God  cannot 
bless  any  soul  while  rolling  in  sinful  indulgence,  or 
while  stoutly  maintaining  its  attitude  of  defiant  hos- 
tility. There  must  be  repentance,  submission,  and  an 
humble,  loving  return  of  the  soul  to  God  before 
blessings  can  descend  upon  \\.  from  him.  And  there 
is  no  exercise  in  the  world  so  adapted  to  bring  about 
this  receptive  state  in  the  soul,  as  prostration  in  prayer. 
When  men  are  on  their  knees  begging  for  blessings, 
they  place  themselves,  as  it  were,  by  that  act,  under 
the  spreading  branches  of  God's  great  tree  of  life, 
and  all  he  has  to  do  to  answer  such  petitions  is  to 
shake  the  branches  a  little,  and  down  comes  the 
golden,  life-giving  fruit  into  needy  and  anxious  hearts  ! 

The  parable  of  the  prodigal  son  teaches  that  all  that 


782  WHAT    GOOD    DOES    PRAYER    DO? 

can  be  done  for  the  soul  while  remaining  in  the  far- 
off  land  of  alienation  and  wandering,  is  to  send  the 
Spirit  to  work  upon  the  conscience,  and  if  possible, 
induce  a  return  ;  as  the  Father  did  not  set  out  to 
meet  his  son,  until  the  son  had  first  started  to  go 
back  to  his  father,  and  even  then  the  fatted  calf  was 
not  killed  until  the  return-journey  was  entirely  com- 
pleted, and  the  son  was  safe  in  his  Father's  house, 
A  great  many  seem  to  think  that  God's  plan  of  sal- 
vation is  so  accommodating  in  its  nature  that  it  goes 
through  the  world  bending  and  curving  this  way  and 
that,  to  suit  individual  peculiarities  and  notions ; 
rather  is  it  like  an  iron  railway  track,  straightfor- 
ward and  unbending,  and  all  who  would  avail  them- 
selves of  its  blessings  and  privileges,  must  come 
where  it  is  and  fall  in  with  its  appointments;  else  the 
opportunity  of  salvation  will  sweep  by  and  leave 
them  behind.  But  prayer  takes  us  into  the  line  of 
God's  movements  and  appointments.  Sin  in  the 
soul  acts  like  paralysis  ;  it  prevents  the  soul  from 
moving  toward  God,  and  prevents  God  from  moving 
toward  the  soul ;  as  there  ever  is,  and  ever  must  be, 
an  eternal  and  unquenchable  hostility  between  sin 
and  God.  Therefore,  one  way  by  which  prayer 
helps  God  carry  on  his  work  in  the  world  is  by  so 
putting  men  into  that  condition  of  moral  affinity  and 
sympathy  with  him,  through  submission  to  his  word 
and  will,  that  he  can  fulfill  his  promises  to  them,  and 
thus  increase  the  effectiveness  of  his  witnesses  and 
workers  in  the  world. 

A  second  way  in  which  the  same  result  is  brought 
about  is  by  providing  God,  so  to  speak,  with  a  chan- 
nel of  communication  to  other  hearts.  This  can  be 


PRAYER    ANSWERED.  783 

called  the  intercessory  benefit  of  prayer,  and  it  is  as 
real,  and  great,  and  important,  as  the  other.  It  is 
expressed  in  the  couplet, 

"  Prayer  is  appointed  to  convey 
The  blessings  God  designs  to  give." 

What  the  Croton  aqueduct  is  to  New  York  City, 
furnishing  a  channel  through  which  water  is  con- 
veyed from  a  distant  lake  to  thousands  of  needy 
homes,  that  to  the  world  is  prayer.  Shall  we  under- 
stand, then,  that  blessings  have  been  bestowed  upon 
men  and  upon  the  world  which  would  not  have  been 
given  had  there  been  no  prayer  ?  We  answer,  such 
is  the  most  emphatic  teaching  of  the  Scriptures 
throughout.  The  passages  and  instances  are  too 
numerous  for  citation  ;  they  are  found  on  almost 
every  page  of  both  Testaments.  Not  that  prayer 
ever  made  God  do  anything  against  his  will,  or 
against  the  principles  of  his  government,  but  it  has 
furnished  both  the  occasion  and  the  means  of  un- 
numbered mercies  to  men. 

PRATER  ANSWERED. 

God  blesses  in  answer  to  prayer,  because  it  is  his 
nature  and  will  to  do  so  ;  because  such  is  a  part  of 
the  eternal  plan  and  arrangement  established  in  the 
beginning,  and  because  there  seems  to  be  an  inherent 
necessity  that  divine  favors  should  come  to  men 
through  human  media,  in  order  to  be  effective.  The 
spiritual  current  from  God,  which  is  the  grand  source 
and  agent  of  heavenly  blessings,  is  like  electricity  in 


784  PRAYER    ANSWERED. 

the  air  ;  it  demands  a  conducting  medium,  a  wire  on 
which  to  run,  a  channel  through  which  to  flow.  And 
as  if  you  take  down  all  the  wires  in  the  land  you 
would  stop  instantly  all  telegraph  communication,  or 
if  you  should  only  remove  a  piece  no  longer  than  a 
finger's  breadth,  you  would  cause  a  fatal  interruption 
of  effectiveness  until  the  breach  was  repaired,  so  if 
you  should  stop  all  the  prayers  in  the  land,  you  would 
instantly  stop  all  spiritual  communication  between 
God  and  human  souls.  Not  that  this  cessation  would 
change  God,  or  his  plan  and  method  of  working  at 
all,  but  it  would  destroy  the  conditions  of  effective- 
ness and  availability.  And  how  abundantly  and 
mournfully  these  facts  have  been  illustrated  in  the 
history  of  religion  on  earth  !  How  many  thousands 
have  grown  cold  and  so  become  destitute  of  all 
spiritual  communications  and  influences  from  God, 
because  they  ceased  praying,  and  thus  cut  the  wire 
running  from  earth  to  heaven.  How  many  churches 
have  almost  died  out  spiritually  from  the  same  cause. 
How  many  revivals  have  been  nipped  in  the  bud,  or 
have  been  stopped  even  while  in  progress,  because 
the  workers  ceased  to  pray  in  faith,  and  work  with 
heart  and  zeal.  How  many  ministers'  labors  have 
been  thwarted  and  rendered  inoperative  from  the 
same  fatal  cause  ! 

There  is  hardly  any  doctrine  of  Scripture  about 
which  the  world  is  so  practically  skeptical  as  about 
this  one  of  the  efficacy  of  prayer,  Multitudes  admit 
it  in  theory  that  fail  to  believe  it  in  practice.  Nor  is 
there  any  doctrine  concerning  which  it  is  easier  to  go 
astray  than  this  ;  or  easier  to  run  to  extremes  either 
one  way  or  the  other.  There  should  be  a  great  deal 


PRAYER    A    DUTY    AND    PKIVILEG*.  785 

of  thought  and  attention  paid  to  the  proper  under- 
standing of  this  subject,  as  it  is  so  vital  to  the  in- 
terests of  souls,  and  to  the  church  of  Jesus  Christ  in 
the  world.  Of  course  only  those  prayers  are  effi- 
cacious that  are  offered  from  right  motives,  and  with 
a  supreme  deference  to  God's  will ;  offered  for  things 
by  themselves  calculated  to  bless  and  benefit,  rather 
than  simply  gratify ;  offered  in  faith  and  earnestness. 
But  with  these  limitations,  which  are  unavoidable  on 
account  of  the  vast  superiority  of  God  to  men,  and 
the  infinite  excellence  of  his  wisdom  and  knowledge, 
there  is  an  open  and  unobstructed  field,  and  an 
urgent  command  given  to  go  in  and  occupy  it. 

And  God  is  as  much  interested  in  our  prayers,  as 
we  ourselves  are,  or  can  be.  For  the  more  true  prayer 
there  is  in  the  world,  the  more  he  can  bless,  and  the 
more  will  the  world  be  brought  into  a  right  moral 
state  before  him.  The  more  prayer  there  is,  the  more 
are  hindrances  removed  from  the  progress  of  Christ's 
kingdom  among  men,  and  the  more  speedily  will  the 
redemption  of  the  world  be  accomplished. 

PRATER  A  DUTT  AND  PRIVILEGE. 

It  follows,  then,  that  prayer  is  at  once  a  duty  and 
a  privilege  for  all.  It  is  one  of  the  legitimate  spirit- 
ual weapons  which  men  are  to  wield  for  the  pulling 
down  of  sin's  strongholds  within,  and  for  the  up- 
building of  the  kingdom  of  righteousness  without. 
It  has  been  well  said  that  prayer  is  not  to  be  looked 
upon  as  a  kind  of  spiritual  luxury,  or  as  a  sweet,  sel- 
fish exercise  ;  but  rather  that  souls  are  to  present 
themselves  before  God  to  plead  for  certain  definite, 


786  PRAYER   A    DUTY    AND   PRIVILEGE. 

specific  favors  and  mercies  to  meet  certain  definite 
wants  and  necessities,  both  in  themselves  and  in 
others.  Men  are  never  to  pray  as  a  mere  matter 
of  form,  but  whenever  real  wants  present  themselves, 
then  their  requests  should  be  made  known  unto  God. 
And  as  we  value  our  soul's  eternal  happiness,  the 
salvation  of  others,  the  extension  of  Christ's  king- 
dom, the  perpetuity  and  moral  renovation  of  the 
world,  the  increase  of  power  in  the  church,  the  ful- 
fillment of  God's  decrees,  the  universal  reign  of 
righteousness,  so  we  should  pray  ;  pray  at  all  times, 
and  everywhere  ;  pray  whenever  we  feel  a  need,  or  a 
want ;  pray  in  public  and  in  private  ;  with  our  hearts 
and  our  lips.  For,  humanly-speaking,  everything  de- 
pends upon  it.  "  We  are  laborers  together  with  God." 
Christ  intercedes  in  person  before  the  throne ;  we 
intercede  in  his  name  on  earth  by  prayer.  The  sick 
and  sorrowing  need  our  prayers ;  the  tried  and 
tempted  need  them  ;  our  fellow  Christians  need 
them  ;  and  the  ungodly  world  needs  them  more  than 
can  be  expressed,  Yea,  more  and  greater,  in  some 
high  sense,  God  in  heaven  needs  them,  that  he  may 
carry  on  and  out  his  purposes  of  mercy  toward  the 
race. 

"  Traveler  in  the  stranger's  land, 
Far  from  thine  own  household  band ; 
Mourner,  haunted  by  the  tone 
Of  a  voice  from  this  world  gone  ; 
Captive,  in  whose  narrow  cell 
Sunshine  has  no  leave  to  dwell  ; 
Sailor  on  the  darkening  sea — 
Lift  the  heart,  and  bend  the  knee  !" 


PRAYER    A    DUTY    AND    PRIVILEGE. 

"  With  a  God  of  peace  above  thee, 

Canst  thou  languish  or  despair  ? 
Tread  thy  griefs  beneath  thy  feet, 

Scale  the  walls  of  heaven  with  prayer. 
'Tis  the  key  of  the  apostle 

That  opens  heaven  from  below  ; 
'Tis  the  ladder  of  the  patriarch 

Whereon  angels  come  and  go  I " 


788  CONSCIENCE. 


CONSCIENCE. 

"  Oh,  Conscience  !  thou  tremendous  power 
Who  dost  inhabit  us  without  our  leave, 
And  art  within  ourselves  another  self, 
A  master  self.      ***** 
How  dost  thou  light  a  torch  to  distant  deeds, 
Make  the  past  present,  and  the  future  frown  ; 
How,  ever  and  anon,  awake  the  soul 
As  with  a  peal  of  thunder  to  strange  horrors 
Through  the  long,  restless  dream  of  life  ?  " 

— YOUNG. 


OD  has  set  up  two  tribunals  before  which 
all  men  are,  or  are  to  be,  arraigned  for 
trial  and  judgment ;  one  is  in  the  soul, 
and  the  other  is  in  the  Bible.  One  is  the 
bar  of  conscience,  and  the  other,  the  bar 
of  absolute  or  revealed  truth.  One  is  tem- 
porary and  uncertain,  the  other,  final  and  unerring. 
One  constitutes  a  kind  of  lower  court  to  the  other, 
and  its  decisions  may  be  reversed  in  the  higher,  or 
they  may  be  approved,  according  to  the  facts  and 
circumstances  of  the  case.  There  is  greater  ability 
and  more  light,  and  a  clearer  exposition  of  law  always 
in  the  higher  tribunal ;  but  still,  the  decisions  and  the 
condemnation  of  the  lower  court  are  not  thereby  to 
be  despised.  For  should  a  man  be  condemned  in 
both,  as  he  is  very  liable  to  be  if  the  case  at  first  goes 


IS    CONSCIENCE    A    SAFE    GUIDE  ?  789 

against  him,  nothing  but  the  mercy  of  God  can  then 
help  him. 

Dropping  the  figure,  however,  and  speaking  plainly, 
the  human  conscience,  which  is  referred  to  in  the 
simile,  is  a  faculty  implanted  within  the  sentient  soul 
for  the  purpose  of  telling  us  when  we  do  right,  and 
when  we  do  wrong.  Its  function  is  that  of  a  moral 
judge  ;  it  is,  literally,  the  moral  judiciary  of  the  soul. 
It  does  not  make  moral  laws,  it  only  passes  sentence 
according  to  the  standard  set  up,  and  the  laws 
already  accepted.  The  work  of  making  moral  stat- 
utes, in  all  cases  where  they  are  not  clearly  revealed, 
belongs  to  the  intellect  and  reason,  and  these  statutes, 
so  made  and  accepted,  are  handed  over  to  the  con- 
science, which  immediately  proceeds  to  pass  sentence 
in  accordance  with  their  provisions.  The  intellectual 
faculties  in  council  constitute  that  mental  and  moral 
legislature  or  law-making  power  in  the  soul  which  is 
always  in  session ;  and  conscience  is  the  heaven- 
appointed  judge  to  pass  sentence  according  to  the 
laws  there  laid  down. 

SS  CONSCIENCE  A  SAFE  GUIDE? 

Hence  it  follows  that  the  decisions  of  conscience 
must  always  vary  according  to  the  light  and  knowl- 
edge possessed.  *  If  the  intellect  and  reason  are 
darkened  by  sin,  or  prejudice,  or  ignorance,  or  malice, 
the  moral  standard  set  up  by  such  a  mind  will  neces- 
sarily be  defective  and  vicious  ;  but  yet  conscience 
will  pass  sentence  of  approval  or  condemnation  in 
accordance  therewith.  If  a  person  has  never  en- 
joyed the  light  of  Christianity,  has  never  read  the 


790  IS   CONSCIENCE    A    SAFE    GUIDE  ? 

Bible,  has  never  received  right  instruction,  the  moral 
standard  in  such  an  one  must  be  low  ;  his  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong  must  be  erroneous ;  and  so  necessa- 
rily the  decisions  of  his  conscience  will  be  very  liable 
to  be  wrong. 

And  this  accounts  for  the  wide  variation  which  we 
find  in  the  decisions  of  this  faculty  under  different 
circumstances,  and  among  different  kinds  of  people. 
We  have  all  recognized  this  variation  or  difference, 
and  have  often  wondered  at  it,  and  wondered  how  it 
could  be.  The  conscience  of  one  man  tells  him  that 
such  a  course  of  conduct,  or  such  an  act  is  right  or 
wrong,  and  the  conscience  of  another  man  will  tell 
him  just  the  contrary.  The  conscience  of  a  Christ- 
ian accuses  him  if  he  does  not  follow  and  obey 
Christ,  the  conscience  of  a  heathen  mother  accuses 
her  if  she  does  not  throw  her  babe  into  the  Ganges 
to  be  eaten  up  by  the  crocodiles.  And  on  account  of 
this  wide  variation  or  difference  in  the  decisions  of 
this  faculty,  men  have  been  so  puzzled  and  perplexed 
as  to  say,  •'  Conscience  is  no  moral  guide  at  all ;  it 
has  no  original,  inherent  power.  It  is  simply  the  re- 
sult of  education  ;  men  can  grow  their  conscience  as 
they  do  their  vegetables,  by  proper  cultivation  and 
training." 

But  the  general  confusion  of  thought  upon  this 
subject  has  arisen  wholly  from  the  want  of  a  little 
clear-headed  mental  philosophy;  Men  have  con- 
founded the  operations  of  the  intellect  with  those  of 
the  moral  faculty.  Men  have  thought  that  con- 
science in  itself  was  the  law-making  power  within, 
instead  of  merely  a  judge  to  interpret  the  law  already 
laid  down.  And  none  can  ever  understand  this 


IS    CONSCIENCE    A    SAFE    GUIDE?  791 

variation  and  difference  in  conscience  until  they  re- 
member that  it  never  makes  moral  laws,  has  no 
inherent  power  to  do  so,  but  its  function  is  simply  to 
pass  sentence  according  to  the  laws  already  estab- 
lished by  a  previous  action  of  the  other  mental  and 
moral  faculties. 

Hence  the  decisions  of  conscience  will  always 
serve  as  a  tolerably  correct  index  of  a  man's  mental 
and  moral  state  or  standing.  If  the  mind  is  a  heath- 
en mind,  the  conscience  will  be  heathen  also.  If  a 
man  has  perverted  his  advantages,  has  become  hard- 
ened and  reckless,  and  throws  away  all  moral  laws 
and  considerations,  as  many  do,  then  the  conscience 
will  also  become  hardened  and  seared  as  with  a  hot 
iron,  as  the  Scriptures  declare.  If  a  person  is  filled 
with  prejudice,  superstition,  or  ignorance,  the  decis- 
ions of  his  conscience  will  reflect  the  same  condition. 
If  a  person  is  weak  or  sickly  in  mind,  conscience  will 
indicate  it  like  a  thermometer.  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  if  a  person  be  enlightened  and  properly  trained, 
and  above  all,  if  a  person  has  received  and  enjoyed 
the  light  of  God's  Word  and  of  the  indwelling  spirit 
of  truth,  then  the  voice  of  his  conscience  will  be  to 
him  as  the  voice  of  God,  and  to  violate  it  will  be  to 
commit  a  positive  sin. 

In  all  cases,  conscience  is  not  to  be  violated  unless 
it  is  opposed  to  some  known  higher  law,  and  then,  of 
course,  its  decisions  are  worthless,  and  can  be  thrown 
aside.  The  heathen  who  has  received  no  higher 
moral  light  than  the  light  within,  and  cannot  get  any 
other,  must  obey  the  decisions  of  his  conscience, 
whether  right  or  wrong.  There  is  no  other  course 
left  open  to  him.  He  must  obey  something  and  fol- 


792  IS    CONSCIENCE    A    SAFE    GUIDE  f 

low  some  moral  guide,  and  until  he  has  the  light  of 
truth  and  the  light  of  life,  conscience  is  his  highest 
moral  teacher.  But  the  moment  his  mind  has  access 
to  greater  light  and  will  not  receive  or  use  it,  the  case 
is  changed.  From  being  innocent  and  blinded,  he 
will  become  doubly  guilty,  because  he  does  not  heed 
the  voice  he  hears,  and  because  he  does  not  try  to 
make  that  voice  clearer  and  more  authoritative. 

Hence  it  can  be  asserted  that  the  voice  of  con- 
science, when  not  opposed  to  any  known  higher  law 
(mark  and  weigh  well  this  qualifying  clause,  for  it 
constitutes  the  line  between  truth  and  error  in  this 
matter)  ;  we  repeat  it,  the  voice  of  conscience,  when 
not  opposed  to  any  known  higher  law,  is  not  to  be 
disregarded,  except  with  peril.  "  For  if  our  heart 
condemn  us,  God  is  greater  than  our  heart."  In  such 
a  case,  the  decision  of  this  judge  within  will  be  very 
likely  to  prove  only  the  echo  of  the  decision  of  the 
Judge  above.  This  lower  court  will  simply  anticipate 
the  verdict  of  the  Supreme  Tribunal.  There  are  few 
worse  sins  than  to  violate  the  law  of  right  day  by  day  ! 

But  while  all  are  bound  to  heed  the  warnings  of 
conscience,  and  commit  sin  if  they  disregard  them, 
this  obligation  is  increased  tenfold  in  the  case  of  a 
Christian.  An  evil  man's  conscience  may  be  wrong, 
or  may  be  silent  and  feeble,  but  a  true  Christian  is 
one  who  has  been  enlightened  from  above,  and  his 
conscience  is,  or  ought  to  be,  more  tender,  active  and 
correct,  than  that  of  a  hardened  or  a  worldly-minded 
man.  And  although  such  a  conscience  will  nor  be 
always  correct  or  always  active,  still  it  is  more  liable 
to  be,  a  hundred  times  over,  especially  if  its  possessor 
is  daily  living  and  walking  with  God. 


A    GUILTY    CONSCIENCE.  793 

As  men  recede  from  the  written  and  revealed  Word 
of  God,  or  throw  aside  its  teachings,  the  light  of 
truth  falls  more  and  more  dimly  upon  the  mind,  and 
the  moral  standard  set  up  is  proportionately  weak  or 
incorrect,  until  finally  a  point  is  reached  where  the 
mind  has  nothing  but  the  feeble  light  of  nature  left, 
and  even  this  is  perverted  and  obscured  by  vicious 
habits,  sinful  indulgences,  and  wrong  religious  train- 
ing ;  so  that  conscience  can  only  sit  and  grope  in  the 
darkness,  or  act  uncertainly  and  inconsistently  ac- 
cording to  the  light  it  has. 

A  GUILTT  CONSCIENCE. 

There  are  few  more  horrible  things  to  carry  about 
with  one  than  a  guilty  conscience.  It  is  something 
that  men  cannot  shake  off  or  avoid.  It  follows  them, 
it  haunts  them,  it  lies  down  with  them  at  night.  They 
have  to  face  it  in  secret  hours,  meet  it  in  the  street, 
meet  it  everywhere.  It  is  an  invisible  and  omni- 
present enemy.  And  how  terribly  it  can  sting  the 
soul!  It  makes  men  afraid  of  themselves,  afraid  of 
God,  afraid  of  death,  afraid  of  everybody  and  every- 
thing. It  is,  in  fact,  an  anticipation  of  the  bitterness 
of  hell. 

"  The  mind  that  broods  o'er  guilty  woes, 

Is  like  the  scorpion  girt  by  fire  ; 

In  circle  narrowing  as  it  glows, 

The  flames  around  their  captive  close, 

Till  inly  searched  by  thousand  throes 

And  maddening  in  her  ire, 

One  and  sole  relief  she  knows  ; 

The  sting  she  nourished  for  her  foes, 


794  A    GUILTY    CONSCIENCE. 

Whose  vemon  never  yet  was  vain, 
She  darts  into  her  desperate  brain. 
So  do  the  dark  in  soul  expire, 
Or  live  like  scorpion  girt  by  fire  ; 
So  writhes  the  mind  remorse  has  riven, 
Unfit  for  earth,  unfit  for  heaven, 
Darkness  above,  despair  beneath, 
Around  it  flame,  within  it  death!" 


But  conscience  can  be  made  an  instrument  of 
blessing  as  well  as  of  torture.  Says  the  Bible  :  "  If 
our  heart  condemn  us  not,  then  have  we  confidence 
toward  God  ";  confidence  to  come  unto  him  as  chil- 
dren come  unto  a  parent  for  bread  or  for  protection ; 
confidence  to  ask  him  for  mercies  we  need,  for  the 
pardon  of  our  sins,  and  for  greater  light  and  love. 
Then  have  we  confidence  to  come  unto  God  in  prayer 
for  blessings  upon  others,  and  confidence  to  feel  that 
our  prayers  will  be  heard  and  answered  in  God's  own 
time  and  way  ;  confidence  to  look  up  to  him  in  filial 
gratitude  and  unpresumptuous  trust. 


THE   VOICE   OF    DUTY.  795 


THE  VOICE  OF  DUTY. 

"  O  Duty  !  daughter  of  the  voice  of  God, 
Thou  art  a  light  to  guide,  a  rod 
To  check  the  erring,  and  reprove  ; 
Thou  art  also  victory  and  law 
When  empty  terrors  overawe." 

— WORDSWORTH. 

ERE  are  times  in  every  man's  life  when 
he  is  compelled  to  choose  between  two 
courses  of  conduct.  Beckoning  to  him 
from  one  path  he  sees  selfish  inclination 
and  a  prudent  regard  for  worldly  good  ; 
and  from  the  other  he  hears  the  words, 
"  Ye  ought  to  obey  God."  Peter  and  John  were  in 
just  such  a  predicament  when  arrested  at  one  time 
and  commanded  not  to  preach  or  teach  in  the  name 
of  Jesus  Christ.  But  they  said  first  to  themselves, 
and  then  to  the  magistrates,  "We  ought  to  obey 
God."  This  word  ought  embodied  to  their  minds  the 
law  of  conscience,  the  law  of  duty,  and  the  law  of 
right ;  and  the  authority  of  these  three  combined 
was  greater  and  higher  than  the  authority  of  the 
Jewish  Sanhedrim,  or  of  self-interest  and  worldly 
prudence  combined.  Hence  it  is  to  be  inferred  that 
the  voice  of  duty  is  the  voice  of  God.  And  to  every 
one  this  same  voice  should  speak,  with  trumpet  tones, 
and  none  should  close  their  ears  to  its  admonitions. 


796  DUTY    TO    GOD, 

Once  followed,  duty  becomes  pleasure,  and  easy  it  is 
then,  to  remember  that  duty  is  before  all  else  in  the 
world — it  is  "  the  voice  of  God  "  not  to  be  silenced 


DUTT  TO  GOD. 

The  very  word  signifies  that  which  we  owe  to  God. 
Our  duty  is  made  up  of  our  dues ;  that  which  we 
owe,  and  are  under  solemn  obligation  to  perform. 
The  idea  of  duty  within  us  comes  from  the  idea  of 
right.  It  is  an  original  instinct  of  our  moral  nature  ; 
a  sentiment  divinely  implanted  for  moral  purposes. 
As  God  made  man  in  his  own  image  and  likeness,  so 
he  incorporated  into  the  very  texture  of  his  moral 
constitution,  a  distinction  between  right  and  wrong ; 
and  as  before  said,  the  idea  of  duty  is  the  correlative 
of  the  idea  of  right.  If  we  see  anything  to  be 
right,  then  we  have  a  duty  to  perform  in  regard  to 
it ;  and  the  duty  is  just  as  real  and  sacred  as  the  na- 
ture and  existence  of  the  right  itself.  It  is  right  to 
speak  the  truth  ;  hence  men  are  under  obligations  to 
speak  it,  and  to  speak  it  at  all  times.  It  is  right  to 
be  honest,  hence  it  is  the  duty  of  men  to  be  honest  ; 
and  so  on  through  all  the  list  of  moral  command- 
ments. Everything  that  God  says  is  right,  hence 
men  are  under  obligation  to  heed  and  carry  out 
whatever  he  enjoins. 

The  foundation,  therefore,  of  human  duty  is  two- 
fold. First,  the  idea  of  duty  flows  from  the  idea  of 
right,  and  the  idea  of  right  is  implanted  within  the 
soul  by  virtue  of  its  godlike  nature  and  capacities. 
In  other  words,  God  put  the  idea  of  right  into  us 
when  he  created  us  in  his  own  image  ;  and  once  in 


DUTY    TO    GOD.  797 

possession  of  the  idea  of  right,  the  idea  of  duty  or 
of  moral  obligation  inevitably  follows. 

If  now,  we  wish  to  go  one  step  deeper  and  inquire 
what  constitutes  right,  we  shall  find  that  three  things 
enter  into  it.  Everything  is  right  which  is  in  accord- 
ance with  the  will  and  nature  of  God  ;  this  is  one 
element.  All  morality,  and  all  right,  and  all  duty, 
come  ultimately  from  the  All-perfect  and  immutable 
One  who  lives  and  reigns  above.  No  God,  no  mor- 
ality, no  right,  no  religion,  no  anything,  in  fact. 
God's  nature,  as  revealed  to  us  in  his  word  and 
works,  is  the  source  of  both  the  substance  and  the 
idea  of  goodness,  truth,  and  purity.  We  refer  every- 
thing in  the  last  analysis  back  to  God.  What  an 
argument  this  for  the  reality  of  his  existence,  as  well 
as  for  the  truthfulness  of  the  Bible  records  concern- 
ing him  and  ourselves  !  Human  nature,  depraved 
as  it  is,  is  not  able  to  throw  God  out  of  its  thought. 
What  an  evidence  this  that  we  are  His  offspring  and 
the  work  of  his  hands.  For  if  we  did  not  come 
from  God,  and  were  not  made  in  his  image,  as  the 
Scriptures  declare,  how  is  it  that  in  all  our  thinking 
God  is  an  ever-present  factor?  How  is  it  that  in  the 
last  analysis  our  thought  runs  right  back  to  Him  as 
inevitably  and  spontaneously  as  the  needle  turns 
toward  the  pole  ?  Why  is  it,  and  how  is  it,  that 
when  we  have  reached  the  conception  of  God  as 
eternal,  immutable,  all-wise,  and  all-perfect,  our 
thought  naturally  comes  to  a  halt,  and  rests  itself 
there  contentedly  and  securely?  If  no  God  existed, 
and  we  were  not  made  in  his  image,  would  all  this  be 
so?  Every  mind  utters  a  spontaneous  No  !  Hence 
we  say,  right  is  made  up  of  all  that  grounds  itself  in 


798  DUTY    TO    OTHERS. 

the  nature  of  God.  Whatever  he  says  or  does,  is, 
and  must  be,  eternally  and  immutably  right ;  and 
whatever  he  forbids  is  wrong.  And  with  our  moral 
natures  as  they  are,  this  cannot  be  otherwise,  and  will 
never  be  changed. 

DUTT  TO  OTHERS. 

Again,  that  is  right  which  is  in  accordance  with  the 
truest  and  best  interests  of  the  world  as  a  whole. 
Every  man  has  in  his  mind  a  moral  scheme  accord- 
ing to  which  he  knows  or  believes  the  world  must 
move,  if  it  moves  harmoniously  and  prosperously  ; 
and  all  that  falls  in  with  this  scheme  in  his  mind  he 
calls  right ;  while  that  which  opposes  it  he  calls 
wrong.  This  moral  scheme  or  plan  in  his  mind 
comes  there  partly  by  original  endowment,  as  all 
moral  ideas  come,  and  partly  by  his  reading,  and 
reflection,  and  education.  The  study  of  the  Bible 
and  the  knowledge  of  God's  character  derived  there- 
from, especially  have  much  to  do  with  its  formation 
and  clearness.  In  every  devout  and  well-balanced 
mind  this  scheme  is  a  kind  of  transcript  of  God's  plan. 

Hence  we  are  led  to  say  that  all  things  are  right 
which  contribute  to  the  highest  and  truest  and  best 
interests  of  the  world  together ;  while  everything  is 
wrong  which  disorganizes,  undermines,  upsets,  or 
overthrows  that  which  should  exist  ;  everything 
which  takes  the  world  away  from  God,  and  God's 
plan.  There  are  certain  rules  and  regulations  in 
society  which  every  one  pronounces  right,  because 
every  one  knows  unless  these  rules  and  regulations 
exist  and  are  carried  out,  society  cannot  exist.  And 


DUTY    TO    OURSELVES.  799 

the  same  is  true  of  civil  government.  Consequently, 
all  minds  lay  it  down  as  one  of  their  fundamental 
tenets  that  every  practice,  habit,  and  custom  of  the 
world  which  injures  its  own  highest  and  best  welfare, 
is  wrong  ;  while  all  that  contributes  thereto  or  en- 
hances that  welfare,  is  right. 

DUTT  TO  OURSELVES 

Further :  That  is  also  right  which  contributes  to 
the  highest  and  best  welfare  of  each  individual  being 
composing  the  world.  All  men  have  a  moral  scheme 
of  their  own  lives.  They  have  an  idea  of  that  which 
is  for  their  best  good  ;  they  also  know  what  will  in- 
jure them  materially.  They  know  how  they  should 
live  and  act  with  reference  to  all  the  varied  objects 
and  interests  which  surround  them.  They  know  that 
a  departure  from  a  certain  course  will  be  wrong,  be- 
cause it  will  destroy  or  break  down  the  true  order  of 
life  which  they  believe  that  God  has  established.  And 
their  idea  of  right  and  duty  has  reference  more  or 
less  to  this  moral  scheme  in  their  minds.  They  feel 
under  obligations  to  conform  to  this  plan  of  God  con- 
cerning them.  They  know  it  to  be  wrong  to  do  or 
say  anything  which  will  injure  the  highest  and  best 
good  of  their  souls. 

Here,  then,  is  the  threefold  source  of  our  idea  of 
right.  That  is  right  which  God  commands ;  that  is 
right  which  contributes  to  the  highest  and  best  good 
of  our  fellow-beings  about  us  ;  and  that  which  con- 
tributes to  our  own  best  and  highest  good.  Now, 
if  man  was  an  unfallen  being,  all  would  go  along 
smoothly.  His  ideas  of  right  and  of  duty  would  be 


8OO  DUTY    TO    OURSELVES. 

identical  ;  there  would  be  no  conflicting  interests  to 
come  in  between  duty  and  its  fulfillment.  The 
moment  anything  right  was  presented  to  the  mind, 
there  would  be  a  spontaneous  movement  of  soul  in 
the  direction  indicated.  But  as  it  is,  both  right  and 
duty  have  to  fight  for  their  lives,  and  contend  stoutly 
for  every  inch  of  ground  they  occupy.  The  con- 
flicting interests  are  so  numerous  and  powerful  that 
right  and  duty  are  often  pushed  aside,  or  compelled 
to  stay  in  the  background.  And  hence  arises  a  great 
moral  and  religious  conflict  which  is  going  on  in  every 
human  heart  all  over  the  world,  between  what  it  ought 
to  do,  and  what  it  would  like  to  do,  between  duty  on 
one  hand,  and  inclination  or  pleasure  on  the  other. 

For  example  :  Here  is  an  act  which  we  feel  and 
know  that  we  ought  to  perform.  Conscience  urges 
it,  and  reason  approves  of  it.  We  ought  to  do  it, 
because  it  is  our  duty  to  do  it,  and  it  is  our  duty  be- 
cause the  act  in  itself  is  a  right  act ;  one  which  God 
enjoins,  and  which  is  in  harmony  with  the  truest  in- 
terests of  self,  and  the  world  in  which  we  live.  On 
the  contrary,  here  is  another  act  which  we  ought  not 
to  perform.  It  is  a  wrong  act.  And  why  wrong  ? 
Either  because  God  has  forbidden  it,  or  because  it 
is  injurious  in  itself,  both  to  self  and  the  world 
around.  Thus  these  words,  "  ought"  and  "  ought 
not,"  stand  as  representatives  of  the  combined  voice 
of  God,  conscience,  divine  right,  and  human  duty. 
When  we  feel  and  know  that  we  ought  to  do  this  or 
that,  the  "ought"  here  is  not  only  the  voice  of  duty 
to  us,  but  also  the  voice  of  God.  Said  Peter  and 
John  to  the  magistrates,  "  We  ought  to  obey  God 
rather  than  men."  Wtiy  ?  Because  it  was  their  duty 


DUTY    TO    OURSELVES.  8oi 

to  do  so.  And  why  their  duty?  Because  it  was 
right.  And  why  right  ?  Because  God  had  com- 
manded it,  and  because  such  a  course  would  con- 
tribute to  the  best  welfare  of  their  own  souls,  and 
the  world  around. 

It  is  quite  common  among  the  careless  and  thought- 
less to  pay  little  or  no  attention  to  the  dictates  of 
conscience  in  this  respect.  It  is  quite  common  to 
hear  persons  say  with  a  laugh,  "Yes,  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  do  thus  and  so,  but  then,  we  ought  to  do  a 
great  many  things  that  we  do  not  do,  so  that  isn't  of 
much  consequence."  But  if  duty  is  not  of  much  con- 
sequence, then  God  is  not  of  much  consequence  ;  for 
whenever  we  feel  the  ought  pressing  upon  the  mind 
and  heart,  we  feel  the  pressure  of  God's  truth,  to  dis- 
obey which  is  to  die.  Whenever  we.  hear  the  ought 
speaking  in  tones  of  persuasion,  or  admonition,  or 
warning,  we  hear  the  voice  of  duty  and  of  God 
speaking.  To  disobey  the  ought  is  to  disobey  God, 
and  thus  commit  sin  and  wrong  ourselves. 

The  number  of  influences  opposing  this  sentiment 
of  duty  in  the  mind  and  heart,  are  manifold,  and 
some  of  them  are  quite  powerful.  Let  us  take  the 
case  of  Peter  and  John  as  a  sample,  and  compare  our 
condition  with  theirs.  In  their  case  the  first  thing 
opposing  the  idea  of  duty  was  the  command  of  the 
civil  authority.  The  Sanhedrim  was  the  highest 
Jewish  tribunal,  and  it  had  commanded  them  under 
pain  of  severe  penalties  not  to  teach  or  preach  in 
Jesus'  name.  This  opposition  of  the  civil  authority 
without,  would  naturally  awake  within  them  the  idea 
of  self-preservation,  personal  safety,  and  worldly  pru- 
dence. Should  they  heed  these,  or  obey  duty  ?  They 


8O2  DUTY    TO    OURSELVES. 

decided  without  much  debate  that  they  would  cling 
to  duty,  and  let  their  personal  safety  take  care  of 
itself ;  and  so  they  said  to  themselves  and  to  the 
magistrates,  "  We  ought  to  obey  God,"  and  we  are 
determined  to  do  it,  irrespective  of  personal  con- 
sequences. In  this  land  and  at  this  day  we  have  no 
civil  authority  to  confront  the  voice  of  duty,  but  we 
have  that  which  perhaps  is  worse,  viz.:  —  An  irreligious 
public  sentiment.  On  the  whole,  we  think  it  would 
be  easier  to  defy  and  break  through  a  positive  civil 
enactment,  than  this  negative,  indefinite,  yet  all- 
powerful  public  feeling  or  opinion  against  the  com- 
mands of  God.  And  so  it  comes  to  the  same  issue, 
after  all ;  we  have  the  voice  of  God  on  one  side  and 
the  voice  of  man  on  the  other,  and  are  called  upon  to 
decide  which  we  will  heed  and  obey.  The  contest 
here  is  between  duty  and  inclination,  between  what 
we  ought  to  do,  and  what  we  would  like  to  do. 

The  disciples  had  to  break  away  from  the  mass  and 
follow  their  individual  convictions  of  right  and  duty  ; 
and  in  so  doing  they  had  to  be  singular,  and  to  take 
a  position  in  advance  of  those  about  them.  They 
had  to  stand  where  they  could  feel  no  help  from 
earthly  friends  or  associates.  And  so  it  is  now,  and 
so  it  will  be  forevermore.  When  the  dictates  of  God 
and  the  dictates  of  an  unbelieving  world  come  into 
collision  ;  when  right  and  duty  are  on  one  side,  and 
custom  and  prevailing  public  sentiment  on  the  other, 
then  no  one  is  a  Christian  or  can  be  a  Christian, 
until,  like  Peter  and  John,  he  says,  "  I  ought  to  obey 
God  rather  than  men,"  and  I  am  determined  to  do 
it,  irrespective  of  personal  consequences. 

Again,  in  the  case  of  Peter  and  John,  there  were 


DUTY    TO    OURSELVES.  803 

all  of  the  selfish  influences  opposing  the  ought,  such 
as  love  of  ease,  love  of  pleasure,  desire  for  personal 
advancement,  etc.  They  might  have  said,  "  Now,  if 
we  keep  on,  we  shall  hurt  ourselves  more  than  any 
one  else  ;  we  shall  bring  ourselves  into  reproach  and 
contempt ;  we  shall  destroy  our  own  comfort  and 
happiness  ;  in  short,  we  shall  make  ourselves  miser- 
able and  wretched  in  every  way.  Besides,  we  shall 
be  pointed  out  as  disturbers  of  the  public  peace,  and. 
we  shall  incur  the  displeasure  of  those  who  are  good, 
honorable,  upright,  and  law-abiding  citizens."  They 
might  have  weighed  all  these  matters  in  their  minds, 
but  whether  they  did  or  not,  the  law  of  conscience, 
the  law  of  duty,  and  the  law  of  God  triumphed,  and 
they  said,  "  We  ought  to  obey  God,"  and  therefore 
we  will  obey  him. 

The  same  or  a  similar  contest  between  duty  and 
self-interest  goes  on  in  each  soul  not  entirely  given 
over  to  hardaess  and  blindness.  And  what  a  struggle 
it  is  at  times  !  There  is  the  love  of  ease,  the  love  of 
sinful  pleasure,  the  desire  for  personal  advancement, 
the  craving  of  ambition  and  lust,  all  pulling  one  way, 
and  on  the  other  side,  there  is  this  all-powerful  senti- 
ment of  duty  ;  there  is  the  feeling  of  the  "  ought" 
and  the  "  ought  not  ; "  there  is  the  voice  of  con- 
science, and  of  right,  and  of  God  ;  and  what  a  battle 
there  is  in  the  breast  over  these  great  moral  issues  and 
questions  relating  to  personal  choice  and  conduct ! 
Sometimes,  indeed,  it  seems  as  if  the  heart  would 
be  rent  asunder  by  the  fierceness  of  the  shock  ;  but  in 
every  Christian  soul  the  ought,  the  sentiment  of  duty, 
finally  conquers.  No  person  is  a  Christian,  or  can 
be  one,  until  selfishness  in  all  forms  gives  way  before 


804  DUTY    TO    OURSELVES. 

the  voice  of  duty  (which  is  the  voice  of  God),  when- 
ever  the  two  come  into  collision.  That  which  is 
agreeable  is  not  always  the  most  useful,  and  that 
which  is  pleasant  is  not  always  the  best.  Present  en- 
joyment must  always  be  sacrificed  when  it  stands  in 
the  way  of  higher  and  more  lasting  good. 

Suppose  Peter  and  John  had  heeded  the  voice  of 
self-interest  instead  of  the  voice  of  duty,  how  disas- 
'trous  would  have  been  the  result !  They  would  have 
lost  all  that  they  tried  to  gain  ;  ease,  pleasure,  personal 
honor,  and  all  ;  while,  as  it  was,  never  thinking  of 
self-interest,  or  at  least  not  heeding  it,  being  willing 
to  give  themselves  up  entirely  to  the  guidance  of 
duty,  they  gained  that  happiness  and  honor  which 
they  did  not  seek.  And  hence  the  truth  of  the 
Saviour's  words,  "  He  that  seeks  to  save  his  life  shall 
lose  it,  but  he  that  is  willing  to  lose  his  life  for  my 
sake,  the  same  shall  find  it." 

This  sentiment  of  duty,  this  feeling  and  knowl- 
edge expressed  by  the  word  ought,  is  designed  of 
God  to  be  the  great  REGULATOR  of  every  Christian 
life.  It  is  easy  enough  to  obey  God's  command- 
ments when  the  soul  is  full  of  warm,  strong  feeling; 
when  the  tide  of  love  is  high ;  but  these  seasons  are 
short  and  inconstant,  and  when  it  is  ebb-tide  in  the 
soul,  there  must  be  some  great  principle  to  govern 
life ;  and  this  regulating  principle  is  the  voice  of 
duty,  which  is  the  voice  of  God.  Does  the  question 
ever  arise,  Why  should  we  obey  God  ?  Let  the 
sufficient  answer  be,  because  we  ought  to.  Do  not 
try  to  add  any  other  inducement  to  that  simple  voice 
of  duty,  the  feeling  of  the  ought  in  your  heart  and 
mind.  Bring  yourselves  to  this  standard,  and  your 


DUTY    TO    OURSELVES.  805 

life  will  cease  to  be  fitful  and  uncertain,  now  up,  now 
down,  now  one  thing,  now  another ;  but  as  the  sen- 
timent of  duty  is  constant,  so  your  action  will  be 
the  same. 

Why  should  we  pray  ?  Because  we  ought  to,  and 
that  is  enough.  Why  should  we  labor  for  souls? 
Because  we  ought  to.  Why  should  we  live  a  correct 
and  consistent  Christian  life  ?  Because  we  ought  to. 
This  is  our  duty.  Why  should  we  give  money  to 
God's  cause  ?  Because  we  ought  to.  Why  should 
we  refrain  from  all  sinful  and  vicious  habits  ?  Be- 
cause we  ought  to.  Why  should  we  discountenance 
all  wrong  ?  Because  we  ought  to  ;  wrong  is  injurious. 
Why  should  we  love  and  serve  God  ?  Because  we 
ought  to.  It  is  God's  command,  and  hence  right. 

And  so  all  through  the  Christian  life.  This  senti- 
ment of  duty,  this  feeling  of  the  ought >  must  govern 
and  control  us  in  all  that  we  do  and  say  for  God  and 
human  welfare.  To  let  self-interest  govern  us,  is  to 
let  the  idea  of  pleasure  govern  us ;  to  let  worldly 
prudence  govern  us,  to  let  the  fear  of  man,  the  love 
of  praise,  the  love  of  ease,  the  dictates  of  wicked 
authority  govern  us,  is  to  give  ourselves  over  to  serve 
the  devil.  But  to  ask  simply,  "  What  is  right  ? 
What  does  God  command?  What  is  duty?"  and 
then  to  do  it  courageously  and  humbly,  is  to  be 
a  Christian. 


806  TIME    AND    ETERNITY 


TIME    AND     ETERNITY. 

"  Dropping  down  the  troubled  river, 
To  the  tranquil,  tranquil  shore  ; 

Dropping  down  the  misty  river, 

Time's  willow-shaded  river, 

To  the  spring-embosomed  shore  ; 

Where  the  sweet  light  shineth  ever, 
And  the  sun  goes  down  no  more." 


"  Where  the  glory  brightly  dwelleth, 
Where  the  new  song  sweetly  swelleth, 

And  the  discord  never  comes  ; 
Where  life's  stream  is  ever  laving, 
And  the  palm  is  ever  waving, 

That  must  be  the  Home  of  homes." 


NOTHING  is  traer  in  the  world  of  fact 
than  this  :  Time,  left  to  itself,  inevitably 
runs  to  waste  ;  and  when  once  gone,  the 
soul  has  no  bugle-call  with  which  to  sum- 
mon back  the  years  that  have  flown  like 
birds,  away,  Hence  the  control  of  time 
is  a  prize,  because  it  incloses  such  vast  possibilities  of 
achievement.  A  day,  or  a  month,  or  a  year,  seems  an 
ordinary  thing,  viewed  superficially  ;  but  who  can  es- 
timate the  results  which  may  flow  therefrom  ?  All 
that  makes  life  pleasant  or  profitable,  all  that  confers 
distinction  and  renown,  —  wealth,  fame,  happiness,  love, 


TIME    AND    ETERNITY.  807 

beauty,  virtue,  goodness, — hang  pendent,  like  golden 
fruit,  from  the  boughs  of  this  tree  of  Time.  To  the 
scholar,  it  can  bring  that  knowledge  which  is  power  ; 
to  the  business-man,  fame,  and  to  the  maiden  the  re- 
wards of  love  and  home.  Every  moment,  therefore, 
as  it  flies,  goes  freighted  with  incalculable  value. 
What  the  air  is  to  birds,  or  the  sea  to  fishes,  that  to 
the  soul  is  Time.  Time  builds  all  our  cities,  con- 
structs our  highways  of  travel  and  transportation, 
and  develops  the  resources  of  our  fields  and  forests. 
Time  builds  up  our  benevolent  institutions  and  car- 
ries forward  all  ameliorating  and  industrial  enter- 
prises. Time  establishes  kingdoms,  and  overthrows 
monarchies  and  empires.  It  develops  the  resources 
of  human  life  and  character,  making  the  mind  an  in- 
strument of  untold  power  in  the  management  of  the 
world  ;  enabling  it  to  forge  thoughts  of  such  power 
that,  when  fitly  expressed,  they  become  like  the  calls 
of  a  trumpet  in  the  ears  of  mankind  ;  enabling  it  to 
set  in  motion  agencies  and  movements  which  affect 
the  destiny  of  generations  and  nations.  In  a  word, 
Time  constitutes  the  foundation-soil  out  of  which  the 
plant  of  achievement  springs,  and  on  which  it  dis- 
plays all  its  beauty  and  fruitage. 

But,  added  to  these  material  and  mental  pos- 
sibilities inclosed  in  the  germ  of  Time,  there  are 
also  possibilities  of  spiritual  culture  and  improve- 
ment. In  time,  we  can  establish  a  connection  with 
heaven,  and  can  form  friendships  with  the  pure  and 
good,  below  and  above  ;  can  partly  at  least  overcome 
the  power  and  dominion  of  sin  in  the  soul  ;  can  link 
our  life  and  destiny  with  Jesus  Christ,  the  world's 
Creator  and  Redeemer;  can  become  the  recipient  of 


808  TIME    AND    ETERNITY. 

angelic  ministrations,  and  make  ourselves  heirs  of 
God  to  an  inheritance  beyond  the  skies. 

More  than  this,  the  rising  sun  of  every  morning 
gives  us  all  a  fresh  start  in  life.  Our  mental  and 
bodily  powers  are  recuperated  and  re-invigorated. 
Waking  from  unconscious  sleep,  is  waking  up  to  new 
possibilities  of  achievement  and  conquest.  All  the 
avenues  of  industry  open  up  afresh  each  new  day, 
and  present  new  and  added  features  of  interest,  and 
greater  opportunities  for  success.  The  beauties  and 
glories  of  the  outer  world,  the  genial  light,  the  vary- 
ing landscape,  the  majestic  forests,  and  rolling  rivers, 
hill  and  dale,  mountain  and  lake,  cloud  and  sky,  are  all 
given  us  to  use  or  enjoy,  each  new  day.  Knowledge 
and  acquirement  become  more  and  more  vast  each 
day.  Experience  has  broadened  and  deepened,  so 
that  the  mistakes  of  yesterday  can  be  avoided  or 
counteracted  by  the  enlarged  wisdom  which  we  bring 
to  the  work  of  the  morrow. 

Time  also  possesses  great  value  from  the  fact  of 
its  intimate  relation  to  Eternity.  It  is  not  enough 
to  say  that  Time  is  the  prelude  to  Eternity,  because 
it  is  more  than  this  ;  it  not  only  goes  before,  but  also 
determines  the  character  of  the  hereafter.  For 
Eternity  will  take  us  up  just  where,  and  just  as, 
Time  leaves  us.  If  there  were  no  hereafter,  if  this  life 
and  this  world  were  all  we  had,  then  this  succession 
of  years  would  not  be  a  matter  of  particular  notice. 
Time  would  only  be  valuable  to  us  for  what  it 
brought  from  day  to  day.  But  this  is  not  the  case. 
It  is  not  only  true  that  Eternity  is  an  ocean  and 
Time  a  rill  running  into  it,  but  the  rill  preserves  its 
individuality,  even  when  joined  with  the  ocean.  This 


TIME    AND    ETERNITY.  809 

rill  is  not  lost  and  absorbed  in  the  sea,  but  maintains 
its  own  character  forever.  Better  is  it  to  say  that 
Eternity  is  a  temple,  and  Time  the  ante-room  to  it, 
because  there  can  be  no  change  of  garments  when 
once  ushered  within.  Time  and  Eternity  lie  like 
two  contiguous  apartments,  side  by  side,  with  but  a 
thin  veil  or  partition  between.  The  actions  in  one 
are  initiatory  and  determinative  of  those  in  the 
other.  In  one  we  strike  the  opening  notes  of  an  an- 
them that  is  not  only  to  be  ceaselessly  prolonged, 
but  prolonged  in  the  same  joyful  or  joyless  strain  in 
which  it  is  commenced. 

A  stone  cast  into  the  midst  of  a  pond  or  lake  pro- 
duces immediately  around  it  a  little  circling  wave  ;  this 
gives  rise  to  a  second,  larger  and  wider  than  the  first, 
and  the  second  produces  a  third,  and  the  third  a 
fourth,  each  larger  and  wider  than  the  preceding  one, 
until  the  influence  of  the  first  wave  is  felt  to  the 
uttermost  shores.  So  it  is  with  our  words  and  deeds 
in  Time ;  they  reach  out  in  ever-widening  circles 
until  their  influence  is  felt  upon  our  lives  and 
characters  forever. 

Previous  to  the  building  of  Solomons  temple  at 
Jerusalem,  the  materials  were  all  prepared  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  site  to  be  occupied.  Some  were  pre- 
pared in  the  forests  of  Lebanon,  other  materials  in 
other  places,  and  when  completed  they  were  brought, 
to  Jerusalem  and  set  up.  Can  we  not  see,  if  there 
had  been  defects  in  the  preparation  of  the  materials, 
those  defects  would  have  appeared  and  remained  in 
the  temple  as  finally  erected  ?  Even  so  will  it  be 
with  each  man's  temple  of  character.  In  time,  we 
are  working  out  the  materials  to  be  transported  to 


8 10  TIME    AND    ETERNITY. 

Eternity,  and  there  set  up  as  the  habitation  of  our 
souls  forever.  And  whether  the  building  is  to  be 
marred  and  imperfect,  or  whether  it  shall  be  to  us  a 
mansion  of  glory  and  beauty,  depends  upon  the 
manner  and  completeness  of  the  preparations  here. 

Time  not  only  merges  into  Eternity,  but  colors  it ; 
and  whether  the  tints  are  to  be  golden  and  bright,  or 
somber  and  dark,  will  depend  upon  how  we  use  the 
brush  and  hues  below.  Time  also  moulds,  as  well  as 
colors  ;  for  as  is  the  pattern  here,  so  will  the  mate- 
rials be  fashioned  there.  Time  cuts  the  garments  of 
Eternity;  and  whether  our  covering  shall  be  a  robe 
of  righteousness  or  of  sin,  depends  upon  the  im- 
provement of  these  passing  years. 

Now  to  redeem  time  from  the  control  of  evil  will 
cost  a  large  amount  of  resolute  determination  and 
earnest  endeavor.  All  virtues  and  all  blessings  have 
their  price  ;  and  if  one  desires  to  make  these  his  own, 
he  must  pay  the  price  of  them.  Nothing  that  we 
most  need  in  life  ever  comes  to  us  of  itself ;  it  must 
always  be  redeemed  or  bought  up  by  paying  some- 
thing for  it.  If  the  scholar  desires  knowledge,  he 
must  pay  for  it,  and  frequently  it  costs  him  not  only 
the  sacrifice  of  ease  and  pleasure,  not  only  days  and 
nights  of  toil,  but  even  his  health  and  strength.  If 
the  business  man  desires  wealth,  he  must  pay  the 
price  of  it ;  and  frequently  that  price  is  the  loss  of 
honor  and  character,  to  say  nothing  of  harassing 
care,  and  devouring  anxiety.  If  the  woman  desires 
to  be  a  leader  of  fashionable  society,  she  must  pay 
the  price  and  penalty  of  the  position  ;  and  frequently 
the  price  is  higher  than  the  object  gained,  for 
she  not  only  has  to  surrender  all  sweet  contentment 


TIME    AND    ETERNITY.  8ll 

and  inward  peace,  but  also  her  moral  welfare.  And 
so  it  is  with  the  redeeming  or  buying  up  of  Time  ; 
it  costs  something  to  get  it  out  of  the  hands  and 
control  of  evil. 

The  on-rolling  stream  of  Time  must  be  served 
as  we  serve  any  other  stream  that  we  desire  to  utilize 
for  human  welfare ;  it  must  be  turned  out  of  its 
naturally  wild  and  often  useless  channel,  and  made 
to  flow  into  another  one  where  it  will  turn  wheels, 
and  propel  machinery.  And  when  both  water-power 
and  time-power  are  thus  forced  out  of  their  natural 
course  into  a  useful  one,  they  are  said  to  be  re- 
deemed. The  element  of  Time  is  like  all  other 
elements,  fire  or  water  for  example,  a  good  and  in- 
dispensable servant,  but  a  bad  master.  If  Time  con- 
trols us,  it  will  surely  drift  us  downward  to  endless 
misery ;  but,  controlling  it,  we  can  yoke  it  as  a 
winged  steed  to  the  car  of  resolute  thought  and  holy 
effort,  and  compel  it  to  bear  us  safely  and  honorably 
through  life,  and  then  set  us  down  triumphantly  at 
Heaven's  pearly  gates. 


THIS 


DATE 


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OCT    28  1946 


1AR1D  19 


i 


LD  21-100m-7, 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


